


February

by TeekiJane



Series: A Year Apart [7]
Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-02-23 21:32:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2556494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeekiJane/pseuds/TeekiJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It might be cold in Connecticut, but things down in Florida are starting to heat up for Jordan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Put Me in Coach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's one thing to be okay with the idea, and another all together to be okay with the reality.

Superjeff15: i think its funny that u are in florida having your spring training…in january  
Ct_yankee_fan_00: yeah its kinda weird for me too. i mean im used to practicing all year long but not with the whole team.  
Superjeff15: so you guys go all over the country playing ball? let me know if you get out this way. ill get off work and come see you  
Ct_yankee_fan_00: you dont have to do that.  
Superjeff15: but i want to  
Ct_yankee_fan_00: great, you can take off work to watch me sit on the bench. sounds like a good time to me.

I’d been back at school for a little over a month when we played our first real game. Notice I said _we_ played the game, not _I_ played the game. That’s because I didn’t actually get to play. 

It’s not something I was used to. Ever since t-ball, I had been a ‘big deal.’ I’d won MVP a couple of times in Little League, and my high school coaches had only good things to say about me. I had sat out a few games through the years, but usually a coach had taken me aside beforehand to point out that they _had_ to give the other players a chance sometimes. 

I’d figured out pretty quickly that I was a low man on the totem pole here in Florida. I mean, back in August we freshmen had, for the most part, given up on trying to be hotshots. Only Aaron, who was a pitcher, really got any play in practice games. The older guys had all told us that was pretty standard. We’d all be given a chance to play early on—a few games here and there, usually when the game wasn’t that important, as a chance to prove ourselves. If we did prove ourselves, we’d get more play. And I thought I had accepted that. 

But being okay with an idea is different from being okay with the reality. Dave and Jessica had gotten all excited about going to the games. “I didn’t go to any last year,” Jessica pointed out, “but now I have a reason to attend.” 

Dave chuckled. “We’ll be your own personal fan club, man,” he enthused. 

I shook my head. “I probably won’t even get to play most of the time,” I admitted. 

Jessica and Dave exchanged glances. I tried to read the secret language passing between them, but I couldn’t. “You kinda knew that, though, didn’t you?” Dave asked. “I thought you had mentioned that before.” 

I didn’t answer; instead I just busied myself with the homework assignment I’d been dissecting before they’d come in. The two of them looked at each other again, but this time I had a feeling I knew part of what was going on. Jessica likes to play big sister or mom to me on occasion. It’s the same instinct that makes her a great future special education teacher, but sometimes it gets on my nerves. She swears she only does it because she’s picking up the slack for Haley, but Haley rarely actually tells me what to do or gives me advice unless I ask first. Jessica just plunges right in. 

“Jordan…” she began. 

I leaned further over my assignment, pretending no one was speaking. Still, out of the corner of my eye, I could see Dave shake his head at her. “Did you want to go to dinner with us?” he asked before she could continue. 

I still didn’t look up. “I have plans with Aaron and Jason later,” I said into my keyboard. 

Dave checked me for signs that I was lying, but for once, I was actually telling him the truth. (Not that I usually lie to Dave. But when I do, he tends to know.) “Okay, then. You alright with it if we come back here to study later?” 

“Whatever.” I was hoping to have my work all finished before my friends from the team showed up. Jessica and Dave rarely get anything accomplished when they study together; they wind up fooling around or watching television, just completely distracted all together. 

I had about five minutes of work left when Jason showed up to collect me. “Where’s Aaron?” I asked him. Jason is Aaron’s roommate, and he’s a catcher. Aaron always jokes that they made him a catcher back in Little League so that he wouldn’t distract everyone with his looks. (In other words, he’s what Margo would call a hunk.) 

“He sent me up here to nab you and bring you back down,” Jason drawled. He’s from somewhere in Arkansas and I swear, the accents there are harder to understand than the kids from farther east. “He’s on the phone with Lisa and I’m pretty sure they’re breaking up again.” 

Like me, Aaron has a girlfriend back home. He and Lisa broke up in September, got back together in October when he went home for fall break, broke up again in November, and got back together again while he was home for Christmas. I rolled my eyes. “Can I come down and meet you guys in a few minutes? I’m almost done with the last of my homework. I won’t be able to work once my roommate gets home.” 

Jason pretended to be offended. “Gawd, Jordan,” he huffed playfully. “First Aaron kicks me out so he can try to end things with the girl he can’t let go of, and then you dismiss me like I’m nothing. You’re going to give me a complex.” 

“You were born with a complex,” I cracked in reply. I put up my homework reluctantly. As much as I was looking forward to playing ball, I worried about keeping up with my schoolwork once the team started traveling next week. Many of my teammates were dismissive of the thought, but for many of those same guys, a C was more than acceptable. I was hoping to keep my GPA in the Dean’s List range, so Cs just weren’t going to cut it. 

By the time Jason and I made it back downstairs, Aaron was off the phone. “So?” I asked him. 

He was clearly confused. “So what?” 

“You and Lisa?” I elaborated. 

Aaron scoffed. “She’s crazy.” 

“We already knew that,” Jason assured him. 

Aaron threw his hands up in the air. “Can we not talk about Lisa all night?” 

“That sounds good to me,” Jason enthused. “I have to hear about her all day long, and I can think of one hundred other topics I’d rather discuss.” 

Aaron scowled a little, but I smirked. I could tell that, despite his protests, Aaron had indeed intended to talk about Lisa all night. Instead of dwelling on it and risking alienating his dinner companions, he changed the topic. “Food,” he said instead, gripping his stomach. “Feed me.” 

We traipsed over to the Papa Sandwich that was just off campus. “I can’t believe that we’ll be playing ball in Georgia in less than a week,” Aaron enthused as we waited for our order. Aaron’s dream is to make it to the majors. He’s getting a communications degree so that someday he can be a sports broadcaster on the radio. Jason, on the other hand, is more realistic. While he’d love to be picked up by some farm team, he’s more concerned with getting a degree he can use if that doesn’t happen. 

Me? After this year, I can’t see going any farther with baseball than playing for Florida. Even though I dreamed of being a professional when I was younger, I’ve outgrown a lot of the expectations I had of adulthood when I was a kid. For example, I don’t expect to be a millionaire with a mansion and a sports car by the time I’m twenty-five anymore. “I can’t believe how much traveling we’ll be doing, just to sit around and watch the upperclassmen play,” I grumbled as I accepted my sandwich. 

Jason threw his bag of potato chips at me. “Think of it this way, Jordan,” he insisted. “Some people pay thousands of dollars to see the country and watch this many baseball games.” 

I ripped open the chips and ate one before I gave the bag back. “Yeah, but think of _this_ ,” I retorted. “We’re going to be sharing a motel room with way too many other guys. We’re going to get to know way more about each other than we ever wanted to.” 

“Like we don’t already,” Aaron said as we found seats. “For example, I know you have this constellation of freckles on your ass that looks just like…” 

Jason roared with laughter. “Oh, yeah,” he said when he stopped. “I’ve seen that, too.” 

If he was trying to distract me from my complaint, it was working. I put my food down and stared at them. “Looks like what?” I asked. 

The two of them looked at each other, knowing they’d won. They’d both told me recently that they were sick of hearing me whine. “I don’t talk about such delicate matters in public,” Aaron told me as he took a dainty bite of his sandwich. He was egging me on some more; he wasn’t exactly discreet about, well, anything. (Not to mention he normally eats as daintily as an elephant.) 

Jason was still laughing, more at Aaron than at me by now. “Why don’t you ask your girlfriend? She can describe it to you as your pillow talk.” 

I hadn’t mentioned to my friends that Haley and I hadn’t gotten that far; I just kept quiet during the locker room talk and so far, no one had noticed. It wasn’t that I was embarrassed so much as I’d learned a hard lesson in discretion in high school. But that flew out of my head at that moment. “She’s never seen my butt,” I said between bites, “unlike, unfortunately, you two.” 

Aaron almost choked on his mouthful of pickle. “Really?” he asked after he swallowed. “What, do you two do it with your clothes on or something? That’s kinda kinky.” 

Jason gave Aaron a look over his sandwich. It was the kind of look Adam and I exchange all the time and it had a very specific meaning: Shut up right now. Aaron obviously either missed it or purposely misread it. “Don’t tell me,” he said after a moment. “You’re secretly Amish and you two don’t date, you court.” 

That could have been so much worse. I was expecting to get seriously razzed. “You caught me,” I told him in a very serious-sounding voice. “I’m fucking Amish. I’m here to get a degree in farming so that I can go back home and churn butter better than my neighbors.” 

Jason chuckled again and shook his head. Aaron matched my tone of voice. “That’s good. Now we can call you Amish Pike instead of the other nickname I was thinking of for you.” 

Stupid me had to go and push the matter. “And what was that?” 

“Pike the virgin.” 

I bit my sandwich. “Yeah,” I answered glumly with my mouth full. I had a feeling that the second was going to be my nickname with Aaron for the rest of the year, like it or not. “I definitely like the first one better.” 

*** 

I made two predictions that came true that evening. The first was about the nickname that would occasionally haunt me for the next two and a half years. (I actually got fairly lucky in that Aaron never said it in front of anyone but me and Jason.) The second had actually come first. When I got back to my room, Dave and Jessica were drinking beer and watching American Pie. They’ve both seen it so many times they can recite the dialog. “This is what passes for studying these days, huh?” I asked. I was in a slightly better mood now that my stomach was full. 

Jessica tipped her beer at me. “Live a little, Jordan,” she called. 

I sat down at my desk. “I live just fine,” I commented absentmindedly. I’d spotted my unfinished assignment and I was feeling glum again. Jessica went back to her movie and I gathered my book, assignment and a pencil. 

Dave spotted me as I tried to sneak out. “Where are you going _now_?” 

I toyed with the pencil. “To the study carousels downstairs to get this done,” I replied as I went for the door. I didn’t wait for him to answer. My assignment was essentially complete, but I took a lot longer than necessary putting the finishing touches on it. After that, I found every excuse I could think of not to head back upstairs and listen to Jessica try to sympathize with me. I read all the announcements on the bulletin board and then checked our mailbox, even though I’d already checked it earlier. 

When I finally headed upstairs, the movie was over and I realized I’d made a tactical error. I should have come home and climbed into the loft, pretending to be asleep, while the movie was still playing if I wanted to avoid conversation. 

It also would have prevented what actually did happen next. I came in to find the recliner, which Dave and Jessica had been sharing, empty. There was giggling coming from the loft, though. I suddenly felt dirty, like I’d just walked in on my parents having sex. I stood in the doorway for a minute and then closed the door behind me audibly. I noisily hefted my books onto my desk and sighed. “Jordan, is that you?” Dave called from in the loft. 

Who else would it be? I’d had to unlock the door to come in. “Yup.” 

“Everything okay?” 

“Yup,” I repeated. 

“Well, you sound pissed off. You’re slamming things around.” 

I rolled my eyes. “I wanted to make sure you knew I was here.” Before you got too into it to care, I added inside my head. 

Jessica giggled again, but Dave moseyed down the ladder. He was still wearing his jeans (or he’d quickly put them back on) but he was shirtless. “It’s cool,” he said lazily. “We’re only goofing around up there.” 

I bet, I thought snarkily. I picked up my desk chair and carried it over to the television. Dave sat on the recliner, still half naked, and found the remote. Before he could turn anything on, something flew out of the loft. “Found your shirt!” Jessica cried mischievously. 

Dave grinned and shook his head. “I’ll go without for now. Just come back down.” 

She came down wearing one of his t-shirts, which he usually wore to sleep, over her own jeans. “I never did find _my_ shirt,” she said, still giggling. I rolled my eyes as she climbed into Dave’s lap and he nuzzled her affectionately. They seemed to instantly forget I was in the room. The two of them kissed and cuddled for a moment before she spoke again. “How come we never spend the night here?” Jessica asked Dave. 

He only had eyes for her. “Because we’re never alone here. At least your roommate goes home for the weekend sometimes, or stays with friends.” 

“Hello,” I grumped. They both turned to me. “I’m right here, you know.” I took the remote off the arm of the chair and turned the television on. 

Dave kissed Jessica’s forehead, but addressed me. “It’s not an insult, Jordan, just a fact. I like that you’re loyal to your girl even though she’s hours away. But it does mean that you’re always here.” 

I made a ‘harrumph’ noise and turned to the television. An infomercial was airing, but I paid close attention to it as if it were a show. You never know, I might decide I needed to buy that hair removal system. My legs _are_ pretty hairy…. I shook myself and turned back to Dave. “I’ll be gone a lot, you know, starting soon. You two can have the place to yourself about every other weekend.” Jessica finally looked up from Dave. She was starting to sober up, although I don’t know if she had been drunk or just had a case of the sillies. Haley gets those a lot. “Then you two can act like I’m not here all you want, because it will actually be true.” 

Something about my tone got Dave’s attention. “You okay, Jordan?” he asked. I didn’t answer; I went back to being enthralled with the hair remover. Dave sat up straighter and Jessica, sensing his shift in mood, moved to the arm of the chair. “You know that I’ll miss you while you’re gone, right? It’s not like I’m going to cheer and throw parties just because you’re out of town.” 

I wasn’t sure what had brought that on. I grunted, my eyes never leaving the TV. Dave kept watching me for a moment. He didn’t seem any less concerned, but he stopped questioning me—probably because he’d figured out he wasn’t going to get any more of an answer. Jessica took the remote from where I’d set it and changed the channel to something that didn’t repeat itself every five minutes. I decided I liked this version of her—the one who didn’t pry, just watched and learned—better than the nosy, motherly one. We watched Nick at Nite for about five minutes before I spoke. “Just make sure that whatever you two do when I’m not here, whether you throw parties or not, just stay off my bed, all right?” 

Dave didn’t answer; he was still watching me seriously. Jessica smiled lightly. “I’m not going to promise anything,” she replied. 

*** 

Our first game was the very next day. I sat and watched from the sidelines, just as I had expected. I understood why I had to come to every game, even when I wasn’t expected to play, because what if there was an injury? But that didn’t make it any easier to watch others playing and not take part. The little boy in me wanted to go run out and tackle somebody and take his place on the field. Instead, I tried to pretend this was a Yankees game and I was rooting for the good guys. It didn’t quite work, but at least I managed stay silent. 

Dave and Jessica came to the game and cheered so loudly they were both hoarse when they met me outside the locker room. “That was fabulous,” Dave said. He was wearing both a Gators shirt and a Gators hat. “We slaughtered them.” 

I grunted and hauled my bag over my shoulder. Jessica took up the cheer. “I’m going to buy Dave a megaphone,” she enthused. “I think that’s the only way he’ll be able to shout any louder.” 

They chattered on. At first I didn’t think they noticed my lack of enthusiasm, but after a while I realized they were being so peppy to cover for my glum mood. They kept it up all the way back to our dorm room. I let them talk without listening, because I just wanted to revel in my bad mood. I knew I wasn’t going to spend the entire baseball season being a whiny bitch, but I wasn’t ready to move on just yet. 

The phone rang a short time later. Dave swiped the receiver up and looked at the screen. “I think it’s Haley,” he said, reading the caller ID. Normally when he says that, I snatch the phone away from him, but this time my mind was a million miles away. I didn’t move from my chair. Dave crinkled his forehead and answered the phone. “Hello.” He listened to the phone for a moment. “Sure, he’s here. Well, his body is, but I think his brain is somewhere else.” 

He walked the phone over and plopped it down on my lap. “It’s your girlfriend,” he said in a quiet voice. “Try to sound more human than you have recently.” 

I picked the phone off my lap and held it to my ear. “Hi,” I said, so that she didn’t hang up. I took the phone out into the hallway and away from Dave and Jessica. Haley waited for me to get somewhere private; she’s used to that. “Hi,” I finally repeated. 

I could hear the smile in Haley’s voice when she started speaking. “Hi, sweetie!” she chirped. “How was your game? Did you win?” 

I hadn’t told Haley about my lack of play time. I can’t really explain that, because I tell her just about everything. I think I was afraid she wouldn’t put up with my bullshit, that she’d just tell me to suck it up because there are so many worse things in life. “Yup,” I said. I was afraid if I said more, I’d start whining. 

“Oh, that’s great!” She didn’t even seem to notice that I’d barely answered her. “Guess what,” she went on. “I decided to go ahead and try out for _Guys and Dolls_. Remember how I said I didn’t want to try out because I didn’t want to play Miss Adelaide? Well, Mr. Dentino said that if I didn’t want to be Miss Adelaide, then I didn’t have to play Miss Adelaide. I just don’t want to be typecast or something. They’re open casting most of the roles, so if I wanted to play one of the male roles, I could audition for just about any part. But I think I’m going to go for Sister Sarah. It’s a great role.” She got all of that out in one breath. She was in an extremely good mood; she only talks that fast when she’s really happy or really worked up. 

“Hmm,” I answered, just so she would know I was actually listening. And I _was_ listening. I just couldn’t get nearly as enthusiastic about it as she was. I wasn’t going to get to see her perform— _Guys and Dolls_ was being presented the weekend before she came out here for spring break—and hearing about it just made it feel worse. I hadn’t told anyone, but I watched her in _Grease_ all three times, on Friday, Saturday _and_ Sunday. 

When I didn’t interrupt, Haley went chattering on all about the musical. She told me all about the plotline and the songs. I learned all about why she felt like Sister Sarah was the best part for her, and how the school band was going to play the music for the show. And when she ran out of things to say about that, she started talking about work and her school assignments. 

What disturbed me the most was that she didn’t seem to notice that I hadn’t said a word since ‘yup.’ It seemed to me that she could have been talking to almost anyone. I could have handed the phone over to the girl who lives on my floor who is always painting something in the hallway. 

This was not helping my mood. 

Haley talked for almost half an hour before she seemed to suddenly realize she was monopolizing the conversation. “Thanks for listening to me babble,” she said warmly. “You really are the best boyfriend ever!” 

Amazing how one little sentence can make your whole mood shift. I sighed, my mouth away from the phone, but it was a relieved sigh. Haley wouldn’t have talked on that long if she were speaking to the girl down the hall; there are very few people she trusts enough to talk so aimlessly. (It was kind of sad how little faith she had in humanity, though understandable given what had happened to her.) “Haley…” I began, hoping to spill the beans finally. 

She became mighty quiet mighty quickly. “What’s wrong, Jordan?” she asked. 

I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see me. “I’m just in a mood,” I told her. What can I say? I chickened out. I still wasn’t convinced that she wouldn’t just tell me to suck it up. 

“I wondered. I heard what Dave said to you about being human.” She shifted the phone from one ear to the other. “We all have bad days. Want to tell me about yours?” 

Here’s the thing. If I was being objective about it, it really hadn’t been a bad day. No one had died or been injured. I hadn’t gotten a bad grade or been arrested or anything. I’d actually gotten back a macro test that I’d aced and the team had won. I really had no excuse for being so unhappy. “I can’t really explain it. Everything just makes me crabby.” 

Haley made a cluck sound with her tongue. “Sounds like you’re depressed,” she observed. 

That made me feel even more pathetic…and irritated. “I don’t get depressed.” 

“Everyone gets depressed sometimes. Some of us just deal with it better than others.” 

Was she telling me that I couldn’t cope? “I’m not depressed,” I repeated stiffly. 

“Okay, then,” Haley said evenly, but I could read her underlying tone. It’s the same one my mom used to use on Claire when she’d declare that she wasn’t sleepy even as her eyes were closing. She was telling me that maybe I just hadn’t figured it out yet, and she wasn’t going to argue with me in the meantime. I set my face like a stone, getting ready to disagree with her anyway, but she didn’t give me the chance. “Maybe you just need some sleep. I’m working tomorrow night—it’s Thursday, so big shocker there—and I have to be at school an hour early Friday morning, so I’m straight off to bed when I get home. And then you’re going away for the weekend. So I guess this is it until Sunday, huh?” 

I didn’t respond; I was still annoyed that she thought I was depressed, plus she had to go and remind me that I wouldn’t get to talk to her for the better part of a week. Haley sighed, although I couldn’t tell if it was out of frustration or what. “I love you, Jordan. Feel better, okay?” 

I didn’t even tell her I loved her too. I just clicked the phone off, feeling worse than I had before she’d called. I reentered my room to find Dave doing homework and Jessica reading something. I guess the two of them actually could study together without it turning into a beer-and-sex fest. Jessica lowered her book subtly when I entered, but she didn’t say a word. I gathered my things and used the bathroom, then went straight up to bed without speaking to either one of them. Jessica continued watching me. I don’t think she wanted me to know, but I noticed. 

I went straight off to sleep, hoping Haley was right that it would solve everything. 

*** 

Sleep, like food, was a temporary refuge. I felt better when I woke up in the morning, but it didn’t last too long. Dave was in a hideously cheerful mood, for whatever reason. I hadn’t been paying enough attention to his life recently to know why. He tried to convince me to go out for coffee with him. Coffee is Dave’s one addiction in life, and it’s not one he’s trying to break. In fact, he’s trying to get the entire rest of the universe to support his favorite coffee shop. He just won’t accept the fact that I don’t like coffee, or cocoa or tea or any other drink the place sells. “Come _on_ , Jordan,” he insisted. “You don’t have to drink anything. Just have a bagel or a muffin. Breakfast is your friend.” 

I held up a banana crossly. “This is a perfectly good breakfast right here,” I replied. 

“Oh, come on. It’ll do you good to get out.” 

I crossed my arms (and my banana) in front of my chest. “This reminds me of when I was in middle school and my brother tried to get me to drink beer with him for the first time. You know how that turned out.” 

Dave laughed uproariously. “It’s not like you’re an alky or anything,” he said. “You’ve just developed a healthy appreciation for booze.” I rolled my eyes. “Come to One World with me. Develop a healthy appreciation for coffee. It won’t hurt.” 

I sighed, growing frustrated. “I don’t want to hang out, okay? I just want to eat my goddamn banana and go to my fucking class.” 

Dave became instantly serious, but he also got upset at the same time. “You can’t just hide from life, Jordan. If you’re going to do that, you might as well dig yourself a grave right now.”

I was about to bellow at him that I wasn’t hiding—not wanting to increase my caffeine intake to unhealthy levels wasn’t the same thing as becoming a hermit—and then stalk out, slamming the door behind me, but Dave beat me to the second half. It felt like the room reverberated for quite a while after he left. 

I sat there staring at the door. A small part of me thought that he’d turn right around so that the two of us could make up right away. Dave gets irritated with me on a semi-regular basis, but it never lasts very long. But of course, this time he was on his way to get coffee and go to his class, and Dave never missed class. 

I threw my banana against the door, feeling incensed for a moment. Then I took a deep breath, gathered myself back together, picked the smashed banana off the floor, and headed off to my own class. 

*** 

I took all my books with me when I left that morning, and after my class, I headed to the library. I knew I wasn’t calm enough to have a nice, respectful conversation with Dave, and I definitely didn’t want to make anything worse. Dave was probably my best friend these days, in addition to being my roommate. While Adam and I had fought a lot growing up (and, let’s be honest, I’d picked on, and at, Byron a lot), it wasn’t the same as fighting with Dave. I knew that if Adam and I stopped talking to each other, it wasn’t a big deal, firstly because it would never last long and secondly because we would always be brothers. I didn’t have that with Dave. It was quite possible that I could offend him so badly that we’d never speak again. 

And I didn’t want to do that, so I did the second best thing: I avoided him. 

Dave and I don’t generally give each other itineraries of our plans throughout the day, but we do share information about when we’ll be home at night. Usually, it’s Dave who catches me before I head out to my evening class, or just leaves me a note. Sometimes I make plans with Aaron or Jason or a study group or whatever, but he’s usually with Jessica or his economics friends. But when I came home that night, Dave wasn’t home and there was no note from him. 

I was all caught up on my homework, because I’d been working ahead a little bit, so I figured I’d spend the evening relaxing. Jason called me about fifteen minutes after I got home, as I was making myself dinner. “Wanna come over and play Xbox with us?” he asked. “Aaron just got off the phone with Lisa again, and he’s finally managed to ditch her…well, for now. We need to celebrate. You in?” 

I groaned. “I can’t. Lots of reading to do.” 

Jason paused. “You are the worst liar in the history of the world, Jordan,” he finally said with a laugh. 

“Maybe I’m just sick of the two of you and want a night away from you.” 

“Fair enough,” he replied. “You’re still going to share a room with us this weekend, right?” 

“Oh, hell yeah. You guys are definitely the best choice.” I took a giant gulp of water. “Look, I’ll see you when the bus leaves tomorrow.” 

One good thing about Jason: other than joking about it, he never takes offense at a dismissal. “Yeah, man. Bring your positive attitude, okay?” 

I shook my head dismissively. “You’re assuming I have a positive attitude.” 

He chuckled. “See you later, Amish.” 

I ate my dinner in front of my computer, logged into instant messenger. Adam was signed in but had a cryptic away message: “Pi are square! Pi are square!” With him not being a math nerd, I had to assume this was some kind of fraternity joke. Byron was logged off, same as he had been for the past couple weeks. I wasn’t sure what was going on with him. When he talked about his classes, instead of telling engineering jokes and talking about obscure science-y things, he mentioned sociology classes and psychology. I had counted up his classes and realized they were all gen eds or humanities. Had he changed majors without telling me? Maybe there was something to be said about not jumping straight into a major. (Not that I hadn’t narrowed down my search to one or two things that actually sounded interesting.) 

I had classmates and teammates that were logged in and active, but I didn’t feel like talking to any of them. Finally I found a name that sounded like someone who wouldn’t judge me if I decided to whine a little. “hey Jeff,” I typed. 

“yo!” he replied almost instantaneously. Obviously, he was in a good mood. “whats shakin bacon?” 

I shook my head. That sounded like something my dad would say to my friends to embarrass me. “where’d you drag *that* up from?” 

“oh, its something mrs bruen likes to say. shes in the kitchen cleaning right now and shes singing oldies songs that are way to catchy. im gonna have who wrote the book of love stuck in my head until i die.” 

Were I in a better mood, I might have laughed. “can I ask you something?” I asked instead. 

“course, dude.” 

“do you think Im whiny? or that I complain too much?” 

Jeff typed slowly. I think he was doing something else while he was talking to me and only typing with a finger or two. “everyone gets like that sometimes.”

I had two immediate responses to that. First was the fact that Jeff had clearly been hanging out with my brother for too long, because that was such a Byron answer, so diplomatic and so full of bullshit. Second was the knowledge that a phrasing like that, no matter who said it, was equivalent to a yes. I sighed and thumped my head against my desk. Jeff and I hadn’t spoken that much over first semester, but he’d called me in January to hear about how the Christmas gift exchange had gone from a second point of view. (Really, I think he just wanted to make sure Byron wasn’t upset about something or another, though I hadn’t been able to figure out what.) Since then, I’d talked to him on IM a hell of a lot more than I’d spoken to Byron. And if he hadn’t spent time with me in six months and he still thought I was a whiny brat, I could only imagine what he’d think if he had seen me the past few weeks. 

“what brings this up?” Jeff asked when I didn’t respond to his attempt to soothe my feelings. 

“oh, nothing. just Haley accused me of being depressed, my friends told me to quit bitching and my roommate isn’t talking to me.” 

There was a long pause. I popped my head back onto the desk, right on the keyboard, typing nonsense words while I waited for some kind of answer. “sounds ruff,” Jeff finally empathized. “u said hay accused u of being depressed. does it bother u that she said that.” 

I hurriedly erased the gobbledygook my forehead had written for me. “yeah, because Im not. Im not gonna off myself or something.” 

Jeff’s words were quick this time, though I couldn’t read his tone. “u don’t have to be suicidal to be depressed, jordan. trust me on that.” 

I thought about how Jeff had been over the summer, when he’d gone through that period where he’d seemed to have no emotion at all, and he hadn’t wanted to do anything. I shook myself and then remembered him telling us that he was bipolar and that his emotions swung from one extreme to the other. He probably spent a lot of time depressed. “oh,” I replied lamely. How does one come back from that? I wasn’t sure if I should apologize or not. 

“i gotta go,” Jeff said after a moment. 

I cringed. “Im sorry Jeff,” I hurriedly replied. I was really worried that I’d hurt his feelings. The last thing I needed was one more person mad at me. “I didnt mean…” 

“no jordan its all right. i actually have to go to work, its got nothing to do with u.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “i hope things get better for u. talk to u again soon.” 

I took a seat in front of the television, planning to play video games for a while and take my mind off, well, everything. Instead I ended up falling asleep for a couple hours. I’m still not sure why. I hadn’t felt sleepy when I climbed onto the recliner, but the blinds were drawn and I hadn’t turned on any lights. I just closed my eyes for a minute, and when I woke up again, it was after midnight. I was still alone and there was no note from Dave. 

I climbed up into bed and tried to go back to sleep, but I’ve never been able to go straight back to sleep once I’ve woken up. This had happened to me once or twice before, and I’d been up for hours afterward. And with the way my week had been going, I knew it would be nearly dawn before I slept, if at all. 

I really, really hate spending the night alone, especially when I’m already in a bad mood. Dave hadn’t said he was staying over at Jessica’s, but it was already one in the morning and he hadn’t come home, so I had to assume he was. I figured if I had to be alone for the rest of the night—and I probably wasn’t going to go back to sleep—then I needed some alcohol to help me survive. I had finally paid Dave back for the beer I owed him, and I’d even paid for the most recent batch. His older brother had accidentally left behind a bottle of whiskey when he’d dropped off the beer, and Dave had decided that, unless his brother mentioned it, we were just going to keep the bottle and save it for a special occasion. 

I went to grab a beer but spotted that bottle instead. I’ve never been much of one for hard liquor—it just doesn’t go down as easily as the beer does. But I remembered a comment Jeff made last year during spring break about how you get drunk so much faster with the hard stuff, so I picked up the bottle of whiskey and poured myself a generous measure. I sat down at my desk, shoving aside some general mess, and put the plastic cup of whiskey down next to my keyboard. I opened up my email, which I hadn’t checked all week. There was one from Byron about something that happened in one of his lectures that he’d found funny that wasn’t humorous in the slightest to me in my current mood. Adam had emailed me twice about some girl he’d met. I skimmed those emails without replying to any of them. 

I had three other emails, but I didn’t open them. They were all from Haley, and I was afraid that reading them would make me feel even more sad and alone. Instead, I closed my email and backed away from the computer. I took the cup and drained it, then filled it back up. I turned on the television and found a station playing a movie. It was one of those movies aimed at women: a cheating husband and a wife who finds her strength and exacts revenge on him. I took the whole bottle and set it on the little table next to the recliner and created myself a drinking game: any time I felt the scene was overly feminist, I took a drink. And in the mood I was in, everything was overly feminist. 

Don’t worry. I didn’t drink the whole bottle. I didn’t want to _die_ or anything…just forget my pain. But it wasn’t working. When the movie was over and the beleaguered wife had found a new man who wouldn’t cheat on her—wouldn’t the whole thing have been more positive if she’d decided she didn’t need a man at all?—I felt worse than I had before I started drinking. Now I was sad and alone and drunk. 

I forgot what time it was. I just needed to hear someone else’s voice and remember that I wasn’t alone. I picked up the phone and put in my long distance call code, then dialed a phone number from memory. 

She didn’t answer right away, even though she keeps her phone in her bed with her at night. Finally, the ringing stopped and there was silence on the other end of the line. I curled up in the recliner, waiting to hear her voice. “Jordan?” she finally said hoarsely. She sounded sleepy, but also panicked. “It’s three in the morning. Is everything okay?” 

I breathed a sigh of relief. The logical part of my brain—the part not fuzzied by alcohol—told me that I had a great girlfriend if she was willing to take my call at three a.m. and not cuss me out for it. But the needy part of me had to get more. “Haley…” I began. I had to say her name out loud. 

“Yeah?” 

I needed to say something that told her how I felt. How I thought about her all the time. How I missed her more in the middle of the night when I was still awake than I did during the day. “I loave you,” I finally said. I found my tongue was slippery and I wasn’t pronouncing things properly. I’d never had _that_ happen before. 

Haley paused, not sure what was going on. “Okay, Jordan,” she answered after a moment. She no longer sounded panicky, just quiet and sleepy and soothing. 

“And I’m drunk.” 

“Yes, you are. Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” she asked. I leaned up against the back of the old recliner and pressed the phone harder to my ear. She could hear me shifting and she took that as a no. “You have two choices right now. You can tell me what’s bothering you so much that you’re getting drunk in the middle of the night, or you can hang up and _think_ about what’s the matter and go to sleep, and I’ll talk to you later. Which one is it going to be?” 

I didn’t answer that directly. “I just needed to hear your voice,” I admitted. 

Haley had brought out a stern tone a moment before, but now she softened. “I’m giving you a hug in my mind,” she quietly replied. “Can you feel it?” 

I tried for a moment. “No,” I finally said pitifully. 

“Do me a favor, Jordan, Climb up into bed and take the phone with you.” She didn’t normally give me orders like that, so I knew she was serious. I obliged, stumbling up the ladder and nearly dropping the phone. I was drunker than I thought. “Now, lie down. Tuck yourself in and pretend your mom’s doing it.” I continued following instructions, although I didn’t have the imagination to visualize my mom. I just pulled the blanket up under my arm and snuggled onto the pillow. “You’re going to hang up in a moment, but before you do, listen to me. I love you, too. To the moon and back, okay? Is that going to be enough to get you through the night?” 

That was more than enough. “Yeah," I said quietly. Suddenly I actually did feel sleepy. I closed my eyes even though the phone was still at my ear. 

“I know you’re going to Georgia this weekend. Email me when you get home and I’ll call you. I don’t care what time it is, as long as you’re sober. I think we need to talk.” 

*** 

I don’t remember saying goodbye to Haley or hanging up the phone, but when my alarm went off in the morning, the phone lay next to the bed, as if I’d carefully set it aside. I had a splitting headache and I felt a wave of nausea pass over me as I sat up. So this was a hangover, huh? It sucked. I never wanted to feel like this again. 

I located some painkillers and washed them down with orange juice. I found the half-empty whiskey bottle and briefly considered Adam’s favorite cure: hair of the dog. But I didn’t follow through. I wasn’t even sure I’d ever drink again. 

I didn’t have practice that morning, since we were headed out of town that afternoon. I had an hour before class, so I really hoped that was long enough for the Tylenol to kick in. I was sitting in my desk chair, my eyes closed, contemplating whether or not I could keep food down, when I heard the door open and close. 

Dave came in cautiously. I could hear every tentative step like he was stomping on my forehead. “Shh,” I said quietly, squinting my eyes open just a little. “There’s no need to make such a racket.” He looked from me to the bottle of whiskey and raised his eyebrows as he connected the dots. We were silent for a moment before the pounding in my brain subsided just a little bit. “Glad you’re still alive. I thought you might have been hit by a car or murdered and dropped in a stairwell.” 

He sat in his desk chair. “I wasn’t planning to stay out,” he said in a low voice. I almost couldn’t hear him over the thumping in my skull. “But I pictured coming home and having a conversation with you that wasn’t pretty. I decided to wait until I had the right words.” I nodded and instantly regretted it because it hurt like hell. But hadn’t I thought the same thing yesterday as well? Dave took the nod as a peace offering and went on. “This is still probably going to come out wrong, but I have to say it before you leave. Did I ever mention my friend Mike to you?” 

He had. Mike was Dave’s best friend from the time he was tiny; he told Mike stories the way I told Adam stories. “Last spring he started sleeping all the time and refusing to spend time with me. I got so annoyed with him because I thought he was doing it to be an ass. We got into a bunch of shouting matches that really didn’t help things. I basically kept telling him to get off his fat butt and let the world back in.” 

I nodded again even though the motion was still painful. Was that medicine ever going to kick in? “Then he started talking about killing himself. Joking about it, really, at first, but then it sounded like he was actually making plans. I never took him seriously because all the guys we hung with would kid about it. That last night, I told him he was annoying me because he kept ‘perfecting’ his suicide plan. He told me I’d never have to worry about him again, and then that night he went home and…” 

Dave stopped talking abruptly, but he didn’t need to go on. It was obvious how that story ended. “I didn’t know,” I said quietly, partly in response to his emotions and partly because of the damn hangover. 

“How could you?” he asked. “I never mentioned it. I don’t like to talk about it. I spent a couple months thinking how I could have stopped him, driving myself crazy. So I put a moratorium on conversations about it.” He rummaged under his desk and came out with two water bottles, which he set on his desk without further acknowledgement. “But then you made that comment about us not having to pretend you weren’t here, because you really wouldn’t be here. It sounded so much like something Mike would have said. I overreacted.” 

“I couldn’t understand where you were coming from,” I admitted. “And I got really upset about it.” It was Dave’s turn to nod. “If you’d been the only one to say anything, it probably would have just puzzled me for a while and then I’d have gotten over it. But maybe it’s time for me to admit that I’m a little depressed.” 

Dave handed me a bottle of water and clapped his hand on my shoulder. “It’s a hard thing to admit. Trust me; I was depressed for a while after Mike died. And I got a lot of counseling. There’s nothing wrong with feeling down for a few days, but if you stay down, promise me you’ll get some help before you go that far? I can’t get another phone call like I did about Mike.” 

I nodded. I was feeling better, partly because the Tylenol had finally started doing its job and partly because of the conversation we’d just had. One down; two more to go. “You won’t. I promise.” 

“I believe you.” Dave grabbed his robe. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to go to One World, but I don’t think coffee will help you now.” He chuckled and shook his head. “So I’m going to take a quick shower and then do you want to walk to class together?” 

I stood up and was dizzy with a pounding head again. At that exact moment, I vowed never to drink again. (Although I knew that I’d change my mind about that sometime in the future.) I closed my eyes briefly and then answered. “Sounds good. And maybe next Thursday the two of us can go to One World together. They must have orange juice, right?” 

*** 

The bus for Georgia left a couple hours later. I made the choice to keep my mouth shut about my frustrations and _try_ to be fun. I don’t think I succeeded too much at first, but I could tell Jason and Aaron appreciated the effort. By the time our Sunday game rolled around, though, I wasn’t faking nearly as much. I actively cheered with my teammates and, even though we lost, I felt a little better afterward. 

When I got back to the dorm, I found a note from Dave on my desk. It wasn’t too interesting—just a comment about working at one of the computer labs and how he’d be back by nine—but it canceled out any ill feelings I might have had walking into an empty room. 

I was hungry for dinner, but I didn’t eat right away. I’d promised Haley during our late night phone call that I’d email her right away when I got home. I sent a quick message: Home now. Call me any time. qqq 

I got up from the computer and took a few minutes to make myself a sandwich, but I didn’t get time to eat it. Either Haley had been waiting at her computer, constantly hitting the refresh button, or I just got really lucky. I had the first bite of sandwich in my mouth when she called, but I still snatched the phone up. I was finally going to get to apologize, and it filled me with a sense of relief. “How was Georgia?” she asked. 

“It was fine,” I commented dismissively. I didn’t want to talk about it, not because it had been a bad experience but because I really needed to focus on where I wanted this call to go. “Haley, about last week…” 

She drew in a breath, almost a reverse sigh. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.” 

What? “When?” I asked quizzically. I hate when I feel lost in my own conversation…especially when I just vowed to take control of it. 

“When I said you might be depressed.” 

I’d been so busy acknowledging that she was probably right that I’d forgotten how big of a hissy fit I’d thrown over that. I could only guess that she figured I had decided to get drunk in the middle of the night at least in part because of it. “I was a little ticked, but I got over it. There’s no need for apology…at least, from you to me.” 

She sounded instantly happier. “That’s good. I know sometimes you brood over stuff for a while, and I’d hate for us to have a fight over one little off-hand comment that I didn’t really mean.” 

“You might not have ‘really meant’ it, but I think you were at least a little right.” 

“Oh,” she said carefully. This was the point, if she was talking to Byron or Vanessa or someone else, she probably would have gloated a little bit, but she was treading carefully. “You said you had something to apologize for, too. Well, why don’t we skip the apologies? It’s like that old movie—Love Story, you ever see that?—where the chick says, ‘Love means never having to see you’re sorry.’” 

I paused for a moment, and I could hear her straining to hold back a giggle. “What kind of crap is that?” I finally asked. 

Haley let the snicker out. “I don’t know. But it sounded good at the moment.” I shook my head at her and her movie quotes. “What was it you wanted to apologize for, anyway?” 

I took a moment and marveled. She’d spent the whole weekend worrying she’d hurt my feelings, and I’d spent the whole weekend thinking she was pissed at me, and neither of us had even _thought_ about what the other was worried about. “For calling you in the middle of the night, maybe?” 

It was Haley’s turn to dismiss a thought. “That’s what I’m there for,” she said idly. 

“Your purpose in life is to be there when I drunkenly decide in the middle of the night that I need to hear your voice?” 

She giggled at my phrasing and incredulous tone. “Well, not that specifically. But you told me once to let you be the rock when I was having a bad time. That goes both ways, you know.” I closed my eyes and remembered Christmas Eve. Back then, I would have thought it would be a negative memory, but now it made me smile. “Besides, Jordan, this works to my advantage. Now, I can call you some time and cry and you’ll just listen, no questions asked.” 

“No questions asked?” I repeated dubiously. This wasn’t dissatisfaction with having to bite my tongue with her someday (because I honestly didn’t ever expect her to call me and _not_ tell me what was wrong), but surprise that she wasn’t going to pry into my problems. “Aren’t you even a little curious why I was drinking in the middle of the night?” 

“Of course I am. I am a nosy bitch, after all.” I snorted. “But I don’t feel like it’s my place to ask. Someday, maybe you’ll want to tell me. Even if you decide not to, I don’t think there’s anything wrong about keeping a little mystery in a relationship.” 

I pulled my knees up in front of me and put my head on them, closing my eyes. “Someday,” I agreed. I was looking forward to a lot of ‘somedays’ with her.


	2. A Little Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentine's Day should be easy, right? Come on. Nothing's ever that easy with Haley.

Ct_yankee_fan_00: valentines is coming up. any plans?  
Ladiezman47: yeah right. have you let your prescription lapse dude?  
Ct_yankee_fan_00: sorry. forgot I was talking to a guy who doesnt believe in love or romance…just sex.  
Ladiezman47: fuck yeah! got that right.  
Ct_yankee_fan_00: moving on. how about you Byron?  
Byronp86: Maybe if Jeff and I were in the same state. But since we don’t get to see each other until next month, we’re saving our money and surprises for then.  
Ct_yankee_fan_00: oh.  
Byronp86: Why? What do you have planned for Haley?  
Ct_yankee_fan_00: dunno yet. still trying to decide.  
Ladiezman47: better get on that quick  
Ct_yankee_fan_00: I know.  
Byronp86: Why don’t you just ask her what she wants?  
Ladiezman47: you can’t do that!  
Byronp86: Why the hell not? It would seem to be the expedient thing to do.  
Ct_yankee_fan_00: you really dont know anything about girls, do you?  
Byronp86: I’m amused that you two are always surprised by that fact.

It was the day after I came back from Georgia that I suddenly realized that V-day was looming. It wasn’t anything I’d ever considered important before. I mean, you don’t get gifts for a girl you’re ‘just messing around’ with. And the only time I’d previously had a girlfriend over Valentine’s was back freshman year of high school. We’d been together for two weeks, and if I remember correctly, we only lasted another week or so. I barely even kissed her, for crying out loud. 

Somehow, I didn’t think Haley would be satisfied with a dollar box of chocolates hastily picked up on the way to school. (Not that that was even an option, anyway.) But I was a little short on funds at the moment. I had about forty bucks until I could get to the bank, and who knew when _that_ would be. The nearest branch of my bank was on the other side of town, and rides were sometimes scarce. I had to budget and make that money last. 

Haley was, at the same time, the most enchanting and infuriating girl I’d ever dated. It wasn’t just her trust issues that made trying to please her endlessly complicated. She seemed to flip flop her opinions at whim. One minute, she loved it when I held the chair out for her to sit; the next, she accused me of being sexist for holding a door for her. She never really held grudges about anything though, and obviously I was doing more things right than wrong, or she would have dropped me a long time ago. 

I decided Byron was at least a little bit right when he said I just should ask her. First, he’s her best friend, so who knows her better than he does? If he didn’t think it would offend her, it probably wouldn’t. Second, I didn’t have to be obvious about it. Maybe I could be more subtle and get her to suggest things. 

Haley called that evening a little later than she usually does. She was a bundle of nerves because she’d auditioned for _Guys and Dolls_ that afternoon and she was certain she’d screwed it up. When she’s talking that fast, I’ve learned not to interrupt her. After a while, she gets it all out and then I can get a word in. And it only took five minutes that Monday for her to wind herself down. “Are you feeling any better today?” she asked. 

“Yeah, I really am,” I replied. And I was. Once my irritability and anxiety and general unhappiness had a name, I found that I could cope with it much better. I’d say I was already halfway back to normal. “I need your help with something, though. You know how I have class right through dinner time on Mondays? Each week, ten of us from the class are supposed to bring snacks, and I got assigned next week. Only thing is, I have a feeling everyone else is going to be bringing sweets because it’s you-know-what day. What should I bring to balance it out?” 

“You-know-what day?” she repeated, confused. 

I smiled. Sometimes, Haley gets so absorbed in whatever’s bothering her that the rest of the world disappears. “Valentine’s Day, of course. Everything on the snack table is going to be pink and red baked goods.” 

“Oh, yeah,” she said knowingly. “Maybe you should do a veggie tray or something. Give your classmates a healthy alternative.” 

“Good idea,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure I could even afford a veggie tray. “So what are you doing for Valentine’s?” 

I heard a rustling noise and realized she was shrugging. “I dunno. Becca wanted me to come over and watch a bunch of weepy breakup movies with her, but I’m not sure. What about you?” 

“Well, it’s Monday, so I have practice in the morning and then class all day long. Mondays are my busy day, you know.” 

“Yeah,” Haley replied with a small sigh. I repeated the move. This conversation wasn’t going how I hoped it would. She hadn’t given me even the slightest hint what I should get for her. 

We were quiet for a moment before I finally decided just to go for it. “So. What do you want for Valentine’s Day, anyway?” 

Haley snorted. “Don’t bother,” she responded. 

“What?” 

She didn’t wait for me to clarify what I meant by ‘what.’ “I really don’t need anything. Most Valentine’s stuff is overpriced and lame anyway. It’s not like I need any lingerie. If I want chocolates, I’ll buy them myself.” She paused and softened her sarcastic tone. “And I already have your ring, so I definitely don’t need any more jewelry. Save your money.” 

I didn’t know how to respond to that. I should have been relieved, after all. If that’s how she felt about it, then I could just mail her a card and write a sweet note inside. But something within me wouldn’t let the subject go. “Which one of us is the girl in this relationship?” I asked after a moment. Sometimes, when you’re feeling awkward, it’s best just to make fun of yourself. 

She laughed softly. “I’ve asked myself that many times,” she said. I sighed at the response, even though I knew she wasn’t making fun of me. I heard her flop down on her bed and a rustling of the covers as she pulled them up over herself. “Seriously, though, Jordan, I’m not saying you can’t be romantic, even long distance. All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t spend money you don’t have just to fulfill society’s idea of romance. I know you love me and I don’t need a Hallmark holiday to remind me, okay?” 

I agreed with her verbally and we moved on to other topics, but I couldn’t get my mind off the subject. I was still going to get her something, but this made it so much harder. It had to be something free or nearly free so that she couldn’t complain. 

Why did I have to fall in love with such a complicated girl? 

*** 

I thought about the topic all day Tuesday. I decided I needed help and I needed it badly. But who should I turn to? My brothers were obviously useless. I hadn’t had high hopes for Adam—his idea of romance back in high school was letting the girl drink from the bottle first and then holding her hair when she barfed—but I thought Byron might have some ideas. Then I’d realized that would be the same as calling her high school girl friends and asking them for ideas. Obviously, that was cheating. 

I had to be sneakier, so I thought about who I could talk so that it wouldn’t get back to Haley. Two ideas came to mind. One was Jason, because he’s constantly got himself a flock of girls, but he’s perennially broke. Maybe he’d have a good idea of how to woo on a budget, if you will. (‘Woo’ is one of those words that never fails to make Haley laugh.) I started off by asking him what he was doing for Valentine’s Day and was surprised by where the conversation went. After he finished razzing me for making it sound as if I wanted to make plans with him, he threw me a curve ball. “I’m avoiding the day,” he said, not sounding happy about it. 

“Why?” I asked. “Don’t you have scads of groupies just waiting for you to ask them out?” 

“Yeah, and I think that’s part of the problem. They’re groupies, man.” He was obviously playing Call of Duty, because I could hear the Xbox in the background. “They don’t want to go out with me for me. They’re just interested in my body, so they’re either only looking for a ‘good time’ or once we get to know each other, we have nothing in common. It’s such a problem.” 

The last sentence was said sarcastically, but I could tell he actually meant it as well. “That sucks,” I commented, just to say something. I knew there were guys out there who would love to be in Jason’s place, Adam among them, but I was suddenly glad that I’d been graded ‘moderately cute’ by the girls instead of ‘smokin’ hot.’ 

“It does,” Jason agreed. “I’ll deny I ever said this if you repeat it in front of anyone else, including Aaron, but I’d pay money to have what you have with your girlfriend back home.” 

“Huh.” 

“No, really. You don’t have to worry about whether you’ll like each other, because you already know each other. And she likes you for _you_ , not some idea of what you _should_ be, like that crazy Lisa or all the girls I go out with. I know a long distance…thing…must be hard, but at least she’s just a phone call away, right?” 

“Yeah, definitely.” I’d never agreed so strongly with that statement as I did now that I knew that I could wake her up in the middle of the night if I needed to. “Look, I know you just said you wouldn’t be seen dead with me on Valentine’s, but maybe we could hide out together?” 

He chuckled mirthlessly. “Yeah, maybe. Talk to you later, okay?” 

“Later.” I hung the phone back on its cradle to charge. Even though Jason hadn’t been helpful in deciding what to do for Haley, he had made a difference. I knew just who to contact next. I sent a quick email although I wasn’t sure anything would come of it. 

I got a reply sooner than I expected. “What’s up, Jordan?” Mom asked. She didn’t call very often, usually just after I’d sent her a down-in-the-dumps email or if she had a quick question. I called her far more often, and I had the phone bill to show for it. “You said you needed my help with something.” 

Dave was home, but he’d been sitting at his computer with his headphones on during everything, so I didn’t think he’d been paying attention to my conversation with Jason. As such, I didn’t take the phone out in the hallway like I do when Haley calls. “I need girl advice.” 

“Okay,” Mom said, a little too quickly. “What kind of advice?” 

“Valentine’s Day advice. I want to get something special for Haley, but I don’t have any money.” She let out a breath I realized she had been holding, and I was instantly suspicious. “What, Mom?” I accused. 

She chuckled softly. “Last time you asked me for girl advice, you and Haley were still broken up. I was just afraid you were having problems.” It was my turn to let out a held breath. “I’m glad to hear that’s not the case. You in particular out of your siblings have this tendency to be overly sensitive about everything, and as your mother, every time you hurt, _I_ hurt. And I have a lot of kids, so I spend a lot of time hurting.” 

I smiled at that. It was a great secret between Mom and me that I was really the sensitive one, not Byron. “Well, I’m not hurting today. It’s kinda the opposite, in fact. Things are so great between us that I want to make sure she knows how happy she makes me.” 

“Well, the best gifts come not from the wallet, but from the heart. You know what your dad does every year for our anniversary? He finds a poem that speaks to him about me, or us, and he leaves it on my pillow. Back when we first got married, he used to handwrite them on parchment. When you guys were little, they became photocopies. These days, he prints them off on fancy stationery. But that part hardly matters because it’s the poem, not the way he presents it, that matters.” 

I thought about that for a moment. “I hate poetry,” I finally answered. 

Mom laughed. “Well, you didn’t get that from your dad,” she said. “I’ve got an idea for something. Let me tell you a little story and explain this. But you’re going to need to put the finishing touches on it yourself, okay?” 

Mom and I talked for ten more minutes before I reluctantly said goodbye. I was excited about her idea but sad that our call had to stay so short. It was partly an issue of the phone bill and partly that Mom said it really wasn’t fair to talk to me so much more often than she called my brothers. 

While I was on the phone, Dave had finished whatever he’d been working on and had taken off his headphones. When I hung up the phone, he looked over at me in a way that told me he’d heard enough to know why I’d called Mom in the first place. “I couldn’t help but overhear…” he started. 

I plopped down backwards in my desk chair so that I could see him better. “It’s a small room, Dave. If I’d wanted the conversation to be private, I would have gone somewhere else.” 

Dave nodded his acknowledgement. “Anyway, I just had a small suggestion for you. It’s either cheap or free, depending on how you do it.” I gestured for him to go on. “Call or email someone back home and make a deal with them. Either work out barter or tell them you’ll pay them when they see you next. Then have them go buy a single rose and present it to Haley just when she thinks you forgot.” 

I looked at him with admiration. “That’s fabulous.” 

“I know,” he said, faux-modestly. “It was my go-to move in high school and it worked every time. It’s sweet and romantic but not overly expensive.” 

I shook my head at his boastful undertone. “Go-to move?” I repeated. 

“I used it on Valentine’s and birthdays and ‘anniversaries.’ Hell, it even helped me lose my virginity.” 

I filed that last bit away. “And you don’t mind if I steal it?” 

Dave laughed. “It’s not stealing if I pass it on to you. It’s not exactly my original thought anyway. My brother gave me the idea, and I’m pretty sure he took it from one of his friends.” 

I tipped my head to one side and then started thinking out loud. “I like that. But who’d be willing to do that for me? Vanessa might, but she’d make fun of me and hold it over my head for all time. And I can’t ask any of her other friends, partly because I don’t have their phone numbers. If only she had some guy friends, besides my brother….” 

Dave got bored with my musing and went back to his computer. “Whatever you do, Jordan,” he said in closing, “Just make sure she thinks this is all your idea.” 

I shook my head. “She’s going to know the truth right away. I’m the world’s worst liar.” 

He turned back around. “Yeah. That’s true.” 

I threw his beach ball at him, bouncing it hard off his head. He raised two fingers over his head in a backwards peace sign, which is the British version of flicking someone off. I guess that’s just the guy equivalent of the way girls give each other hugs and say thanks after one gives the other good advice. 

*** 

I figured out the answer to my question pretty quickly, but it took me two more days to call and ask for help. In the meantime, Haley called Wednesday night like she usually does. I was in an extremely good mood because I’d actually gotten to play for part of the game that night. We’d gotten home late and I logged into instant messenger silently, because Dave was already asleep. I didn’t even open a conversation box—just put up an away message—and the phone rang. It would, in time, become our secret code on Wednesdays. 

I whisked the phone out into the hall. “I was beginning to think I was going to fall asleep before you got home,” Haley admitted by way of a hello. 

“It was a long ride back to campus,” I explained. 

She yawned audibly. “Mind if we keep this short? I have a trig test in the morning.” 

“No problem. I wouldn’t have even minded if you hadn’t called at all.” That wasn’t entirely true; I would have minded, but I wouldn’t have blamed her. “I got to play tonight, for four innings.” 

She perked up a bit. “Really? I’m glad for you.” She waited for me to go on, but I spared her the details for now, because I figured we could talk about it tomorrow night…much earlier in the evening. “Listen, I thought about the conversation we had the other night about Valentine’s Day. The one where I told you not to get me anything but I knew the whole time that you’d never be able to let it go despite permission to do so? I decided that could go both ways. So I mailed you something today. You’ll probably get it Friday but don’t open it until Monday, okay?” 

Okay. Now I was intrigued…and a little concerned. What if she’d spent money on me, or her gift was so much better than mine? “Can you give me a little hint? I promise I won’t open it if you give me a hint.” 

She gave a soft half-laugh. “Nope. Just know that I put a lot of effort into what you’re getting and that if you don’t like it, I’m breaking up with you.” 

I paused for a moment. That’s not something Haley normally jokes about, especially since we _did_ break up once. She knows I have no sense of humor about it. “So I better practice liking your gift so that it sounds real when I open it, huh?” I finally replied. 

“Don’t worry,” she said slowly. I knew this was going to be the end of the conversation, because she was already on her way to sleep. “I don’t think there’s any chance of that happening. Part of me thinks I could send you a rotten fish and you’d like it, because it came from me.” 

I wasn’t sure I’d go _that_ far. “G’night, Honey. Get some sleep and I’ll talk to you later.” 

I had the feeling her eyes were already closed. I knew she was already in bed; she was just waiting to end the call before she drifted off. “Night. Love you.” 

“Love you too.” 

The next day I called home like I do fairly often, and as usually happens, one of my sisters answered the phone. “Hello?” 

“Hey, Claire.” 

“Oh,” she said disdainfully. “It’s you.” 

“Who were you expecting, the president?” I teased. 

“Like I’d tell you,” she taunted. I rolled my eyes, because I really hadn’t expected her to seriously answer to the question. “Mom’s not home. She and Dad decided they had to get the hell out of here because we were making them crazy. I hate to tell them this, but they were already crazy. Anyone who would voluntarily have eight kids has to be nuts. In any case, they went out to dinner and a movie.” 

I chuckled at her assessment of things; hadn’t Adam said the same thing many times? “I didn’t actually call to talk to Mom tonight. Is Nick home?” 

“Waddya want _him_ for?” Claire asked disdainfully. “Looking for sex tips or something? You’d have better luck asking me. You’d probably have better luck asking _Byron_ , for shit’s sake.” 

She must have been telling the truth about Mom and Dad being out, because there’s no other way she could have gotten away with that language. “No, I get all my sex pointers from the Internet.” I waited a moment for a smart aleck response before I realized I’d done the unthinkable: I’d shocked her into silence, however briefly. “Is Nick home or not, Claire?” 

“I’ll get him,” she said. The phone made a muffled thunk as she set it down on the counter. I gave myself a brief imaginary high five at having finally found a method to silence Claire’s gift of blab. 

Nick came to the phone oozing charm. “Hello,” he answered flirtatiously. 

“Hello to you, too.” 

“Oh, it’s you,” Nick said, his voice changing instantly. He sounded gruffer and more like I was used to hearing him. 

I chuckled. “Claire didn’t tell you who was calling?” I asked, stating the obvious. 

“No,” he said slowly. “She just said, ‘phone for you’ and wandered off, looking distracted and determined at the same time.” 

“Ohhh,” I said with sudden realization. I hadn’t shocked Claire—I’d given her an idea. “Let me give you a piece of advice: avoid the computer in the living room for a while.” 

Nick paused at the apparent lack of logic of that statement. “Is that why you called?” he asked. 

“No, I was hoping you could do me a favor.” 

Nick laughed. “Really?” 

I couldn’t tell if he was making fun of me or surprised that I’d actually asked him for his help. “Well, yeah.” He was kind of my last hope. Haley didn’t talk to any guy she found threatening, and as far as I could tell, that was just about everyone. I’d narrowed my list of people who might be able to help me down to my brother and her brother, and I couldn’t figure out how to get ahold of Matt. “It’s not really a big deal. It’ll only take a few minutes of your time.” 

There was a little pause, but when Nick spoke again, I could tell I’d piqued his interest. “Well, what do you need me to do?” 

I explained what I was hoping he’d do. “You just have to buy a single rose and then bring it over to Haley’s house about eight thirty on Valentine’s Day.” 

Nick chuckled. “Okay. What do I get if I help you with this?” 

I was afraid he’d say that. “Well, what do you want?” 

“Your Evanescence poster? You left it on the wall when you went to school, and Margo took it down because she said looking at it made her sick when she was trying to do her homework.” 

“That’s it?” I asked incredulously. “That’s all you want?” 

“Yup. Oh, and the fair shot to ask you to help me out with girl issues sometime in the future without you trying to lecture me or pass judgment.” 

“It’s a deal.” I imagined shaking hands with him. It’s weird for Nick and me to be on the same side of anything. “I don’t know how much a single rose will cost, especially because I’m sure they jack the prices up for V-Day, but I’ll pay you back when I come home for summer.” 

“Honestly, it’s all right. I like Haley; she’s good people. And if this will make her smile, I’ll do it for free.” I raised my eyebrows at the fact that my own brother was more interested in doing things for my girlfriend than for me. “I’ll probably buy a couple roses. There’s this one girl who I’m really trying to convince to go out with me. Remember when you said that there would be a girl someday that would make me want to stop serial dating? Well, I’ve known who she was all along, but first I had to work up the confidence to ask her out, and then she turned me down. I’m going to get a date with her if it kills me, so maybe a rose will be the first step to get her to stop thinking of me as a brother.” 

“By all means,” I said. “Apparently, this is the world’s most ingenious move. My roommate said it got him laid back in high school, so I’d think it would be a step in the right direction for a first date. And Nick?” 

“Yeah?” 

“This summer, when everyone’s back in town, we need to have a quadruple date. Me and Haley, Byron and Jeff, you and this girl—because I know you’re going to get her—and Adam and whoever he’s sleeping with that week.” 

Nick laughed. “Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks for the vote of confidence with the girl. I’m going to keep dropping hints to her, and eventually I’ll ask her again.” I heard him turn the ice machine on and ice clanked into an empty cup. “Do you want me to call you after I finish the delivery and let you know how it goes?” 

“Not necessary. If everything goes according to the plan, she should be on the phone with me already when you stop by.” 

“Sounds good. Hey, maybe we could coordinate on IM so that I don’t head over there until she’s already on the phone.”

I couldn’t believe this was Nick I was talking to. “Good plan. Thanks for all your help. I owe you one.” 

Nick and I said goodnight a short time later and I buckled down into my studies. Our games were all in state this weekend, but I’d decided to force myself to develop good habits for those times when we were spending hours on the bus. The other guys had been ridiculously noisy the entire trip to Georgia the weekend before. I’d thought I’d get ahead on my reading on the way, but between the chaos and a slight case of car sickness (nothing Margo-worthy, but enough that I’d learned that I can’t read on a bus), I’d gotten nothing done. 

I spent most of Thursday on into Friday focusing on a project for macroeconomics. It was a class that I’d thought I’d hate but actually enjoyed, at least partly because it was mostly projects. Math was a subject that I liked because it was something you _did_ rather than something you listened to someone lecture about. I got the project squared away and headed home to have lunch before we headed south for that evening’s game. 

The envelope in my mailbox surprised me, even though I knew something would be coming for me over the weekend. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I thought Haley was sending me a package or at least a large manila envelope. This was just a regular size, as if it held plain notebook paper. I held it up to the light, trying to figure out what was inside. Part of me was tempted to open it, but Haley had specifically asked me to wait. I took it up to my room, where Dave was studying something and looking as happy about it as I usually did when I studied. “Hey, Mr. Baseball,” he said as he looked up. I realized that he was less thrilled to see me than thrilled to have an excuse to put down his text. 

“Hey, Dave,” I responded. “Can you do me a favor?” Dave nodded, not even concerned about what the favor was. For all he knew, I could be about to ask him to go buy me some smack. I pulled Haley’s letter from my backpack. “Hide this from me until Monday, please.” 

He took it and inspected it. “What is this?” he asked, but after a moment he put two and two together. “Oh, it’s from Haley, isn’t it? I can do that for you, in exchange for a small favor on your part. Make yourself scarce Saturday night, okay? At least until midnight or so. Jessica won’t be spending the night, but we would enjoy some privacy. Sound fair?” 

“Only if you do the same when Haley comes to visit in April.” I’d asked Dave for permission for Haley to come stay with us for the week, although I don’t know what I would have done if he’d said no. Instead, he’d been enthusiastic about it, and both he and Jessica were anxious to meet her. 

“It’s a deal.” Dave went back to his studies and I sat down at my computer with a bottle of water and a turkey sandwich I’d made myself. I opened my email and found just what I was hoping to find. Mom had emailed me a really short message with an attachment. “Use this well,” was all she’d written. I opened the attachment and looked it over, and sure enough, it was exactly what she’d said it was. She had me all confused when she’d described it to me, but now that I’d actually seen it, I knew exactly where it came from. I saved it to my hard drive, knowing this was something I’d want to keep forever. 

*** 

That weekend was over in a flash, which surprised me. It was even more hectic than the weekend before, when we’d been out of state. That had involved a whole lot of ‘hurry up and wait,’ which had resulted in the team sitting around with nothing to do on several occasions. Playing home games on Saturday and Sunday meant that I could get stuff done in the dorm, like some reading or a little cleaning, before running over to meet the team. 

Practice always starts before dawn, so I’m usually up at 4:30 on Mondays. It’s the roughest day for me because I leave the house early in the morning and don’t come home again until well after dark. I guess I could come home after practice or between classes, but I figured out that if I sit down in my chair, I don’t want to get back up. So instead I go to the library or any place there’s a study carousel and work or read or sometimes, just plug in my IPod and relax. That’s what I did after biology but before psychology on this Monday. The latter runs from five to eight every Monday evening, and it was the class I needed to bring a snack to. I’d taken Haley’s idea and bought a veggie tray, even though they weren’t cheap. I’d been correct, though: everything else on the snack table was a baked good, frosted white and pink and red. 

When psych was over, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. It wasn’t just that we were studying the world’s most boring topic, or that I had a sugar rush from one too many cupcakes. I knew what was waiting when I got home. 

I got to the dorm about ten minutes earlier than I usually do and logged straight into instant messenger. Nick was waiting for me. “howd the rose ceremony go with mystery girl?” I asked. 

Even through the computer, I could read his disgusted tone. “It didn’t happen the right way. She has this one friend that she’s always with, and today was worse than normal. Any time I spotted her in the hallway, she was with this friend. They even went home together! I ended up giving up and leaving it on her doorstep and ringing the doorbell.” 

I chuckled to myself. “ding-dong-ditch with roses?” 

“Sorta,” Nick responded. “It’s frustrating because now it’s a secret admirer rose and not a Nick rose, and because I didn’t get to see her face when she found it.” 

We chatted on aimlessly about his crush. For the first time, I started to wonder who she was, but I knew better than to ask. If Nick had wanted me to know, he’d have told me. 

Haley called right on schedule, same time she always does on Mondays. I started out by asking her about her day. “It was okay,” she said. She sounded a bit puzzled. “I ended up going over to Becca’s, but I managed to talk her out of the sobfest. We watched Stand by Me instead. Can you believe she’d never seen it before?” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that either. What’s it about?” 

Her tone shifted from confused to slightly hurt. “Um, it’s a coming of age movie about four boys who go hunting for a dead body.” 

I’d seen the movie before; I was just stalling. Nick had just stepped away from the computer and it would be a few minutes before he made it to her door. “That sounds charming. Dead bodies on Valentine’s Day?” 

“It suited our moods,” she said darkly. It’s amazing how quickly Haley’s attitude can shift. She’d sounded kind of hopeful when I’d picked up the phone, and I knew she was waiting for me to jump straight into romantic mush. For someone who’d told me I could skip the holiday all together, she sure was annoyed that I appeared to have actually done just that. 

“I’m sorry to hear that you’ve had a bad day,” I said. “Want to tell me about it?” 

“No, not really,” she said stiffly. “But I will tell you about something weird that happened. When I was at Becca’s, someone rang the door. Her little brother answered it and came in hollering that he’d found a flower. Someone dropped a rose on her front stoop, and now she’s totally freaking out because she thinks she has a stalker.” 

My eyebrows went up. My girlfriend was none other than the friend who was keeping Nick from his crush. “Oh? A stalker? Sounds more like a secret admirer.” 

“That’s what I said, but Becca thinks that secret admirers leave notes with their gifts, so it must be a crazed, deranged stalker.” Haley chuckled; she sounded more normal. “She’s got an overactive imagination.” 

“I see that.” The doorbell rang at Haley’s house, but she ignored it. “Aren’t you going to get that?” 

“Why should I?” she said dismissively. “My parents and Matt are both home. They’ll get the door.” 

I made a face; it was going to ruin the whole plan if she didn’t meet Nick. I didn’t have to worry, though. “Haley?” I heard Mr. Braddock shout. “There’s someone at the door for you.” 

And she was confused again. “For me?” she called back to her dad. I didn’t hear his reply, but Haley came back to the phone. “Jordan? Can I call you back?” 

“I’ll wait.” 

She paused. “Okay,” she said. I couldn’t read her emotions now, but I had a feeling she knew there was some kind of plot afoot. She put the phone down next to her computer. She’d been listening to a mix CD I’d made her over Christmas. Haley’s musical tastes focus mostly on modern songs, a mix of off-beat pop and folksy alternative. I’d made her CDs in the past of oldies and classic rock, and she’d been sort of disdainful about the music. She’d listened to them, alright, but she didn’t seem interested beyond that. 

I guess this CD had been more successful, because she’d had it over a month and it was still cued up in her computer (or she’d uploaded it to ITunes.) It was a collection of love songs from all different eras that I’d made so that she’d quit complaining when I was playing older music. The Beatles were on there, and the Beach Boys, up through more modern groups. I listened to The Raspberries while I waited for Haley to come back and I realized something. There were two reasons she was listening to that CD today: it was romantic, and it was from me. 

Suddenly I felt really guilty about making her wait all day for her gift. 

I could have had Nick deliver the rose first thing in the morning. It’s what I would have done if I were still in high school with her. I wouldn’t have been able to wait because I would have wanted to see the expression on her face right away. Or if that wouldn’t have worked out, I could have emailed her the surprise earlier. By waiting, I wasn’t heightening the romance; I was stressing her out. That’s why she’d sounded so ticked a moment before. 

She came back to the phone fairly quickly. “You…you…you…”

“Me…me…me…what?” 

“You shithead,” she finally said. She was trying hard to sound upset, but it wasn’t working. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. You really like it?” 

“Yeah, but I gotta ask you something.” She shifted the phone from ear to ear and walked away from the computer. I heard water running and realized she was putting her rose in a vase or something. “Whose idea was this? I know you didn’t come up with it.” 

How’d she figure that out? I hadn’t said anything that would give her a chance to tell if I were telling the truth or lying. “What makes you say that?” 

“It’s not your style, Jordan. I mean, the rose is gorgeous and all, but this is just not you.” Haley made it back to her bedroom. I could tell because I briefly heard ‘I Melt with You’ oozing from her computer speakers before she turned the music off. “You’re not the type to play games like leaving me dangling all day…at least you haven’t been until now.” 

She was basically rephrasing what I’d just thought to myself a few minutes earlier. “Dave suggested it,” I admitted. 

“I thought so,” she said, a little smugly. One thing about Haley: she loves to be right. “I’ve always liked the fact that you’re so straightforward about stuff. You’ve never needed to play games.” 

I chuckled. “That’s mostly because I told you I liked you and you responded by kissing me.” 

Haley giggled in response. “What can I say? I’m a girl who goes after what she wants.” She padded around in her room and plopped down on some surface or another. “Anyway, a rose just isn’t up to your usual standards. You’ve set the bar pretty high so far, with that scribble wall at Christmas and that dancing lesson for my birthday. I’m not surprised you weren’t able to top it.” 

I had an already-composed email saved in my drafts. I pulled it up and quickly attached the photo my mother had sent me. “Hey, now, I’m not finished yet. Check your email in a moment.” 

She was sitting in her rolling desk chair; I could tell because it makes a distinctive squeak sound when she turns it. “Oh?” I heard her shuffle the chair over to the computer and start clicking with the mouse. “There’s nothing here yet, but I’ll keep looking. Meanwhile, did you open _my_ gift yet?” 

“No. Dave hid it and he hasn’t given it back yet.” I kinda regretted not asking him to just leave it on my desk when he came home earlier in the day. He was out with Jessica and who knew when he’d be back. 

“That’s okay,” she said, a nervous undertone creeping up in her voice. “Just read it when you get a chance, okay?” I didn’t respond, because her computer beeped. “I got your email!” she announced. “Should I open it?” 

“Of course.” 

There were a few more mouse clicks and then Haley was back to being puzzled. “What the hell is this?” she asked. 

“It’s a photo,” I told her with a smirk. 

“Well, obviously,” she said, dripping sarcasm briefly. “What I meant was, when was this taken? I don’t remember this at all.” 

“It was the summer after I finished sixth grade. You came over to hang out with Vanessa, and Adam and I were in the backyard playing catch. He started talking about girls, remember?” 

“Not at all, but keep going.” 

I smiled at her confusion, because it was exactly how I’d felt when Mom described the photo to me. “Anyway, he was talking about the girl he’d been dating—or more accurately, feeling up—and how he was such a stud, but he wouldn’t tell me who she was. You overheard the conversation and I don’t remember what you said, but you totally cut him down to size.” 

“‘You couldn’t get a girl to touch your dick if it were made of chocolate.’” 

“ _What_?” 

She laughed. “That’s what I said to Adam that day.” 

“Oh.” I could remember the overall scene, but the actual words and statements were lost to me. I was glad she had a memory for details. 

“I remember this now.” Haley was talking a lot faster now that she had caught up. “You couldn’t believe I’d just said that, or that I’d managed to shut Adam up, so you told me I was your best friend for the day.” 

“And when Mom came outside, I told her to grab the camera so I could remember that moment for all time.” I pulled the photo up on screen so that I was looking at it too. I was wearing ratty shoes, an oversized t-shirt and a pair of carpenter jeans and I had almost the same haircut. If it weren’t for the fact that I was probably five foot even at the time and hadn’t hit puberty yet, I might not have changed at all. 

Haley, on the other hand, was wearing a pair of extremely baggy overalls that dragged on the ground, over a plain white t-shirt and bare feet. Her hair was almost as short as mine, in a pixie cut, but she wore a couple of pink barrettes that seemed more decorative than functional. It was hard to tell in that outfit, but one thing I did remember was that she developed pretty young. (Mostly I remember this because Vanessa spent a long time begging to be allowed to buy a bra since Haley wore one.) She went through a hard-core tomboy phase for a couple years before she discovered boys. “This is the best thing ever!” Haley squealed. Until that moment, I wasn’t sure she even liked the second part of my effort. “How did you remember this even existed?” 

I didn’t tell her that Mom had reminded me about it. “It’s in one of the photo albums at home. I’ve probably looked at it a hundred times.” Both parts of that were true. 

“I’m going to get this printed out and put it on my nightstand next to the picture of us from Maine.” She sighed and I could hear the chair she was sitting in as she spun it around twice. “How long is it until I come to see you?” 

I glanced at my calendar. “Less than two months now.” Somehow, phrasing it that way made it feel more positive than saying ‘almost two months left.’ “Think you can make it?” I teased. 

She chuckled. “If my parents weren’t making me go to my aunt’s for winter break, I’d seriously consider buying tickets and flying down to see you then.” 

“We’re going to be just fine. I mean, look at that photo there. That’s two tough kids who can—and have—survived everything.” 

“Of course you’re right.” She got out of the squeaky chair. “Promise me you won’t think of me looking like that when you dream about me, okay?” 

I glanced at the photo. As cute as I thought it was and as much as I enjoyed looking at it, it wasn’t exactly going into my spank bank. I mean, she was eleven in that photo, for crying out loud. It was almost like pedophilia. “Better like that than with that rattail you had when you first moved to Stoneybrook.” She made a slightly hysterical sounding laugh; I knew she had hidden all the photos of her from that era because she wanted everyone to forget about that particular fashion don’t. “Believe me, I’m not looking to the past when I’m dreaming of you. I’m imagining our future.” 

“Spring break future?” 

I smiled. “Spring break, summer, you name it.” 

We got off the phone a short time later, with her begging me to contact her after I’d read her letter. It was still early enough that I could get some work done before I got too tired. I pulled out the textbook for my Tuesday-Thursday afternoon class: western civilization, the most boring, sleep-inducing text in the history of the world. Something was sticking out of the top of the book just a smidgen. I opened it up and found an envelope and a sticky note. Dave had written a single line on the sticky note: “I knew you’d never look here.” I rolled my eyes, not because of what he’d written, but because he was correct. 

I forgot that pretty quickly, however, and I tore open the envelope. What came out wasn’t plain paper ripped out of a notebook like I’d imagined, but lined stationery that looked like she’d had it for years. I got past the fact that this was clearly something she’d dragged out of a bottom drawer of her desk really quickly, though. It’s like my mother said: it’s not the medium that matters as much as the actual words. 

Dear Jordan,  
I thought about emailing you, but I decided that you can’t beat the written word, no matter how sloppy. I never thought you’d be the better one of the two of us with words, but you never seem to have any problem expressing yourself. I never feel like I have the right words when I’m talking to you.  
You’ve told me many times why you love me, as much as I still have trouble believing it sometimes. And I don’t think I’ve ever returned that favor. I kissed you the first time (well, the first time after the dare) because no one had ever used such sweet words on me. I’ve had a lot of boys hit on me before, but they all seemed to want the same thing. You just were different. I realized I’d never seen the real Jordan before, and now that I had, I really liked him.  
I love the way you put your whole heart into everything we do. I love that you are endlessly patient with me. I love the fact that you try to put on a tough guy face to the world, but you’re not afraid to let me see what’s behind it. And I love that behind that face is a gentle, sensitive person who needs me as much as I need him.  
I’m not sure this counts as romance, but it counts as honesty, and I hope that’s enough for you.  
Love you always,  
Haley 

It counted as romance to me, and it was something I’d needed to hear for a long time without even realizing it. I folded the letter back up and put it in my important documents file. It was something else I knew I’d want to keep forever.


	3. A question of faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I never expected to question God...but I also never expected the rest of what happened that day, either.

To: ladiezman47  
From: ct_yankee_fan_00  
Subject: re: spring break  
I guess compared to Ohio, Myrtle Beach must be a tropical paradise. (I haven’t made fun of Ohio enough recently, but I’m really tired, so insert your own digs here.) I really wish I could meet you guys for even part of the trip, but we’re going to be somewhere out west that week. I forget where. All the states are starting to blend together at this point.  
I’m thinking road trip this summer again, but just you and me and Byron. Guy time, no gfs or bfs.  
Jordan

Throughout my life, I’d had arguments with every party I’d ever encountered: Friends. Girlfriends. Siblings. Parents. There was only one force I’d never questioned—at least, not until that day in February. 

Practice had been cancelled for some reason or another that Tuesday; I honestly don’t recall why. But Jason was having an antsy moment. (The guy makes me look still, and that’s hard to do.) “Let’s just go outside and have our own practice,” he suggested when he called at 6 am. “Aaron can pitch and you can bat. C’mon, Amish, what do you say?” 

Just like I’d feared, the ‘Amish’ nickname had caught on like wildfire. People I’d never introduced myself to, not even once, were greeting me that way. It had me afraid of what else they knew about me. For the first time since I was maybe sixteen, I was actually self-conscious about my virginity. “I say, why couldn’t you have waited a couple hours? Dave really hates early morning phone calls.” 

Jason was unmoved. “Tell him it was an emergency, okay? Say I was in an accident and you have to come give me CPR or something.” 

“Very funny.” I don’t know why I even bothered arguing with him. I was already halfway dressed. I’d gotten used to the 4:30 wakeup calls, and sleeping in was, well, weird. “When and where do you want me to meet you?” 

Have you ever thought back on your life and regretted a decision? Thought that maybe, if you’d gone another way, you could have changed what happened after? I’d never really thought about it before. I don’t know if that was just too deep and pensive a thought for me, or if I really just trusted that God had a plan. I’d like to think it was the latter. In church they teach you that everything happens for a reason and that God doesn’t give you anything you can’t handle. I believed both of those things and I’d even used them as an excuse sometimes: I’m the way God made me, and he gave me a temper. 

But after that day, I spent a lot of time wondering what role fate played in my life and what was actually my responsibility. I arrived at the small quad to find it completely empty—not a single other person. I hadn’t expected a large crew; it wasn’t even six-thirty in the morning and most college kids aren’t exactly morning people. 

But there were supposed to be a couple people waiting for me. Aaron and Jason weren’t there yet, and I silently cursed myself for taking them literally. Every time the two of them tell me to meet them at a specific time, they’re half an hour late. I took a ball and tossed it repeatedly at a tree, pretending it was another player. I was still doing that fifteen minutes later when they finally arrived. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Aaron asked. He stood next to me and peered at the tree as if he expected it to pick up roots and come toward us. 

“Waiting for you,” I replied, as if it should be totally obvious. I adjusted my ball cap and spit at the ground. “If you two weren’t such deadbeats, I wouldn’t have to play with trees. Get your asses in gear and let’s practice.” 

Things went just like they were supposed to for half an hour or so. I don’t remember most of it, probably because what happened next is so seared into my brain. 

Aaron has this really annoying habit of commentating while he’s pitching. All morning long, he’d been spending so much time describing his pitches that he doing very little actual pitching. “Solomon winds up. He throws a curveball that’s gotta be 98 miles per hour. Look at that arm!” 

I tossed the bat down; I was tired of his ridiculousness. “That was not anywhere near 98 miles an hour!” I shouted. “If you spent more time actually practicing, maybe you could throw better than a twelve-year-old Little League reserve pitcher!” 

Aaron stared me down. “Them’s fighting words, Pike! Jason, tackle him for me!” 

Jason plopped down on the ground. “I’m not getting involved in this,” he insisted. “You two are boring the crap out of me with this argument. I’m just going to take a nap until you’re finished.” He lay down in the grass and pretended to snore. 

Aaron cracked a smile. “Okay, okay. Get up, Jason.” Jason did as requested. “Virgin, get your bat ready, otherwise I got nothing to aim at but your head.” 

I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t answer to that.” 

Jason growled. “Just pick up the damn bat. You two can whip ‘em out later; I’ll even provide the measuring tape. Now, we practice.” 

“All right, all right.” I grabbed the bat. “But enough with the commentary, Solomon. And stop calling me that!” 

Jason got into position behind me. “If you stop complaining about it, it’ll take out of the fun out of him calling you that, and he’ll stop,” he muttered, just loud enough for me to hear. 

Where had I heard that before? “Who are you, my mother?” 

Jason laughed. “Nope. Wrong gender and I think I’m several months younger than you are. Makes that a medical impossibility.” 

I rolled my eyes. I knew Jason was just kidding around, but I wasn’t in the mood for any parental advice at that moment. “Are you two girls done having your bonding moment over there?” Aaron yelled. “What are you doing? Swapping panty liners and sharing douche recipes? Get on with it!” 

“You’re the one with the ball!” I shouted back. We were being unnecessarily loud; we weren’t that far apart. “Just pitch already!” 

He did just that, whipping one by me before I even had the bat ready. “Strike!” he shouted. 

“That was out!” 

“No, my good sir. That was most definitely a strike. Do you need your eyes checked?” 

Jason adjusted his catcher’s mask. “It was in, Amish, and you know it. Get over it and move on.” 

I grimaced. I didn’t agree with that, but then again, I hadn’t been watching closely. Maybe the ball had been in and I just couldn’t tell. “Whatever.” 

The next couple pitches went more smoothly, but Aaron and I just couldn’t stop arguing. We weren’t like that normally, but once he started rubbing me the wrong way, I kept finding him more and more irritating. Tempers were starting to flare. Once again, I disagreed with him over the placement of the pitch. “It was high!” I insisted, and this time I knew I wasn’t wrong. 

“Quit bitching and just start swinging at my pitches,” Aaron hollered in response. “Inside!” 

I turned to Jason, who, because he’s right in the strike zone, is a more objective observer. “It was high this time.” 

“Who even cares?” Aaron whined. Obviously, he didn’t like Jason’s call. “Throw the ball back, Snyder!” 

Jason tossed the ball high, underhand, and Aaron snatched it up with one hand. “Obviously, you care,” I said. It was an unnecessary comment, and I made it for no other reason than to annoy him. “You clearly hate it when you hear the truth.” 

Aaron tensed up, his jaw set. He adjusted the brim of his cap. “What the hell is your problem, _Virgin_?” he asked. He leaned hard on the final word, letting me know he meant to piss me off as much as I was pissing him off. 

“You’re my problem,” I hissed. “You and your crappy pitching.” 

Aaron opened his mouth, but closed it again. Instead, he took a step closer. I held the bat up in a hitting stance, because I didn’t put it past him to throw the ball at my head like he’d jokingly suggested earlier. Don’t get me wrong—we weren’t so angry that we were actually going to start beating on each other. But Aaron liked to keep me on my toes. He’d always thrown things at me, both physically and verbally, to throw me off my stride. 

Jason had had enough. “Will you shut the fuck up?” he said. “I’ve had it with this argument. You two are on my last nerve.” 

Neither one of us paid any attention. “Come over here and say that to my face, Pike,” Aaron taunted. 

I had no intention of doing just that, but that wasn’t going to stop me from putting my digs in. “I came out here to practice my hitting,” I said to the air. “But I haven’t had a chance because you can’t seem to get anything over the plate!” 

Jason was still squatting with his mitt in one hand, but he ripped his mask off with the other. “ _Enough_! I’m going back to bed.” 

I heard him, but I was paying more attention to Aaron than to him. Aaron cocked his arm back, and I was already in batting stance, so he fired the ball off. And, like his last pitch, it was high. 

I didn’t see the ball hit Jason in the forehead, but I know it did. I heard, rather than saw, him crumple to the ground. The bat slid from my grip, also connecting with the ground with an audible thump. At first, I thought I heard that thump over and over again over the next few seconds, but then I realized that wasn’t the bat—it was my heart. 

I was closer to Jason, so I was over him in just a second. “Jason?” I asked. “Are you okay?” His eyes were sort of closed, sort of open and he didn’t answer. “Jason?” I repeated, hoping he was just dazed. I gave him a little shake and his eyes rolled up into his head and then came back into view, unfocused and unseeing. That’s when the panic really started. 

Aaron was still standing where he had been when he’d thrown he pitch, like he was in shock. He pulled off his cap and put one hand on his cocoa-colored forehead. When I looked up at him, I could almost hear him thinking, _What just happened here?_ “Aaron!” I called. Jason was still unresponsive; I had to take control of the situation. “Aaron, focus on me for a minute.” He shook himself visibly, then our eyes met. “Do you have your cell phone? I need you to call 911.” 

Aaron was still in a haze, and he didn’t answer or move to pull out his phone. I pressed my fingers to Jason’s throat. “Oh, God,” I murmured. “He’s not…I have to…” Aaron was still staring at the two of us as I leaned over Jason. “Aaron, 911, now! I have to do CPR.” 

That seemed to do the job. I bent over and, without a second thought, started doing chest compressions. I could hear Aaron dialing the emergency number and reporting our location. “He’s not breathing,” I heard him say into the phone, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I counted out the compressions in rhythm, then stopped to breath into Jason’s open mouth. As I started to get a momentum going, I stopped counting and just started praying. _Dear God_ , I thought, not stopping to look up or give away what I was doing in any other way, _Let him be okay. Let him survive this._

I kept up going through the motions—both the CPR and the prayer—until someone put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay, son, we’ve got this,” the EMT said as she physically pried me away from Jason. 

I hadn’t heard the ambulance pull up. The EMT dragged me over to the tree I’d been abusing with the baseball not an hour earlier, where Aaron was standing. He still had his cell phone clutched in one hand and his eyes were wide. I sat down on the ground next to him as a large crowd started to amass—apparently, I was the only one who didn’t hear the ambulance. “I can’t believe this is happening,” Aaron murmured. 

“I know,” I replied shakily. Every muscle in my body hurt; I was tense all over from concentrating so hard on the CPR. And yet, it didn’t seem to have helped. They loaded Jason up on a stretcher and I could tell they were getting ready to shock his chest because his heart still wasn’t beating. 

A school rent-a-cop had arrived at some point to shoo away all the gawkers, and the EMTs had told him that we were the ones who had been with Jason when this had started. As the EMTs closed up the ambulance and got ready to drive away, he came over to join us. “What exactly happened here?” he asked. “I understand your friend got hit in the head with a baseball.” 

Aaron looked over at me. Both he and Jason had a serious lack of respect for the school police. Jason dismissed them as not actually being able to arrest you and therefore, not worth dealing with, while Aaron had had a run-in in high school with the cops back in his hometown in Georgia that had led to him being arrested for, in his words, ‘being black in public.’ He didn’t really have much respect for _any_ police after that. If it had been any other time, he probably would have mouthed off. I don’t think he even had the energy right then. “We were practicing,” he began. “I was pitching, Jordan was batting, and Jason”—he pointed to the retreating ambulance—“was catching.” 

“We’re on the school team,” I interjected. The cop nodded his understanding. 

Aaron picked up his thread. “It was an accident! I didn’t know that Jason had taken off his mask, or I would have never thrown that ball. We’re roommates and friends and teammates. I wouldn’t want this to happen,” he insisted. 

“Of course not,” the officer said stridently. He looked over at the crowd of kids still milling around, even though there was nothing to see…except the two of us getting questioned. “Gather your things up from over there. Either of you two have a car?” I shook my head. Freshmen weren’t really allowed to have cars on campus, although the school did make exceptions. “I’m going to radio into dispatch and let them know what’s going on, and then I’m going to take you two to the hospital. You should be there when your friend wakes up.” 

*** 

The campus security officer might have been nice, but he obviously knew nothing about hospital protocol. Aaron and I sat in the emergency room waiting room for hours without hearing a single word on Jason’s condition. Or rather, I sat for hours while Aaron paced in circles around a ring of chairs, end tables and really old, thumbed-through magazines. Seven minutes of CPR had made every muscle in my body ache deep down, and I was high on adrenaline to boot. I sat with my head in my hands, at first to try to calm my heart rate and later because Aaron was making me dizzy. “Stop it,” I finally said after forty-five minutes. “You’re making me sick to my stomach. Sit down already.” 

“I can’t,” Aaron answered crisply. He wheeled around and, instead of stopping to look at me, started making laps in the opposite direction. He spoke over his shoulder. “That’s my best friend right there,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the door through which patients were rushed. “And this is all my fault.” 

“All your fault?” I repeated. “We were arguing with each other. I was taunting you as much as you were egging me on. We’re both to blame.” 

Aaron paused and I turned so we were looking each other in the eye. “Yeah, but you didn’t peg him in the head with a fastball, did you?” he asked. 

I didn’t have an answer to that. I just buried my head back in my hands. I hadn’t stop to think about my role in what had happened until Aaron spoke. If I hadn’t pissed Aaron off. If I hadn’t aimed that bat. If I hadn’t dragged Jason into the argument. This was at least as much my fault as Aaron’s. 

I found myself praying again with great fervor. I promised all manner of things: if Jason walked out of that ER of his own free power, I’d never curse again. I’d volunteer my time to some worthy cause. I’d restrain my temper. I’d be nicer to…well, everyone. I’d read the Bible more often. 

Aaron got tired of waiting sometime later. I’d lost all sense of the hour by then, and checking my watch never occurred to me. He went up to the intake station and demanded to be told what was going on. I tuned him out as he raised his voice. If he was upset because he’d heard bad news, I wasn’t ready to deal with that. I steeled myself as he returned and finally sat down, hard, in the chair next to me. “They won’t tell me anything,” he grumbled, “because I’m not a relative.” 

I closed my eyes. By now I was exhausted; part of me just wanted to climb into bed and sleep until Friday. “You know what they say,” I said in a low voice. “No news is good news.” 

Aaron turned to me angrily. “Who says that?” he asked. “Masochists?” I shrugged. All I meant was that they hadn’t come out and told us that all efforts had failed and Jason was dead. We could hold out hope. “If they don’t give me some information soon—good or bad—I’m going to raise the roof on this place.” 

“How’s that going to help?” I asked. “You’ll get us kicked out and then we really won’t find out how he’s doing.” 

Aaron reluctantly settled into his seat. “You’re right, for once in your life,” he muttered. He was angry—although I wasn’t sure if he was still mad at me for our disagreement earlier or at himself or whom. Normally I wouldn’t have been able to let such a barb stand, but I had no strength left. A short time later I actually fell asleep in my uncomfortable waiting room chair, my head on my shoulder. 

Aaron let me sleep for a while, but apparently I was snoring or drooling or in some other way bringing attention to my rest. He shook me. “How can you sleep at a time like this?” he demanded. 

I shook myself. I’d added a crick in my neck to my other aches and pains. “You didn’t perform CPR this morning, did you?” I asked, just as frustrated as he was. 

He jumped out of his seat, and his face was a jumble of emotions: guilt, worry, and now annoyance. He was about to let me have it; I could tell. I added on to my statement so that he could that wasn’t supposed to be a slam on him. “Aaron, sit down. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to say anything about you with that. It’s just…if you’ve never had to actually give CPR before, you have no idea how much concentration and power it takes.” I looked at my watch finally. I was missing my morning class. It was the first class I’d ever missed in college, and a huge chunk of me wished I was there…because that would mean that none of this was real. 

It was another hour before someone came out to see us. The doctor informed us that Jason’s parents were on the way from Arkansas as we were speaking, and they had requested that we be given an update. Aaron had started making laps again after my last comment, and the two of us hadn’t spoken since then. He quickly stood beside my chair, tightening his hand on the arm rest. I didn’t move from the chair—I hadn’t stood up once in nearly four hours, even though I had to pee really badly by this point. I just didn’t trust my legs not to buckle. “He’s in intensive care,” the doctor said. “There’s swelling on his brain and there’s not much we can know or do until it goes down.” 

“Is he going to be okay?” Aaron asked. 

“Like I said,” the doctor continued patiently. I had the feeling he had to repeat himself a lot, and he did it in a way that didn’t make Aaron feel stupid or more angry. “We just don’t know yet. His brain was deprived of oxygen for a long time. Best case scenario, the swelling goes down and with some therapy, he’ll resume a normal life. But it may be a long time before the swelling goes down and may involve months of therapy.” 

Aaron nodded. I just watched the doctor silently. Jason could still be okay. This could still work out alright. “What’s the worst case scenario?” Aaron asked after a moment of digesting that information. 

The doctor seemed a little less comfortable. “He may be brain dead, in which case we’ll let his family say goodbye and then disconnect life support. Or his brain could have been deprived of oxygen for too long and he may remain comatose indefinitely.” 

“Indefinitely?” I repeated, although I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what that meant in this case. 

“Possibly the rest of his life,” the doctor confirmed. He watched as Aaron and I looked at each other, stricken. “Look, boys,” he continued. “We don’t know which way this is going to go. Think positive. I understand the two of you were the ones who called 911 and performed CPR. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation. He would have been pronounced dead on arrival when the ambulance arrived.” 

I wanted that to make me feel better. Thanks to me, Jason had a shot. But unfortunately, I just couldn’t muster any positive feelings. “Thank you,” I managed to say before I returned my head to my shaking hands. 

“I called the university,” the doctor told us. “One of your baseball coaches—I’m not sure which one—will be out to pick you two up shortly. We’ve been told to call you both the second anything changes or we know more. The Snyders also said they want to see you both sometime during their visit, to thank you for what you did.” 

*** 

I don’t remember the ride back to campus. I couldn’t tell you who picked me up, or what their car was like. I vaguely recall both Aaron and I naming the professors whose classes we were missing that day so that they could be emailed with an explanation from an official source. 

I’ll tell you what I do remember. Dave had already heard that a member of the baseball team had been injured and rushed to the hospital during an ‘unofficial’ practice. He’d also skipped all his classes and was spending his afternoon pacing the dorm floor, similar to how Aaron had been in the waiting room. “Oh, thank Jesus,” he said when I walked through the door. “You’re alright.” 

I didn’t feel alright and I was certain I didn’t look alright. I was shaky still, I hurt all over and I hadn’t eaten since about six am. It was now nearly two. “Depends on your definition of ‘alright,’” I said as I lowered myself into my chair. 

“Jessica saw the ambulance this morning and she heard someone was in the ICU.” Dave’s voice was panicked and flustered, despite his apparent relief at my return. “I hadn’t heard from you since you left so I was afraid that—” 

He didn’t finish his thought, just plopped down in his own desk chair. “Jason,” I said quietly. “It was Jason.” 

Dave crossed himself. He’s Catholic and he goes to mass just about every Sunday, though you’d never guess most of the rest of the time. He says he has to pay ‘lip service’ to God, but I know he actually enjoys going. “How is he?” 

I shook my head. “We don’t really know. He got hit in the head and they won’t know anything until the swelling goes down.” 

Dave sighed, although he didn’t sound relieved in any way. “Why didn’t you call?” he asked, anguished. “Jess and I were so worried about you. You should have called.” 

I put my head on my shoulder. “I didn’t know that you knew anything about it,” I replied. “Also, I wasn’t thinking about anything—or anyone—but Jason.” 

Dave acknowledged that that was fair enough. “I’ll call my church and my Bible study and get everyone to start a prayer chain.” He was up and moving, phone already in hand, getting ready to call and email at the same time. 

I yawned. “I’m going to take a nap,” I said, “or at least try to.” 

Dave turned around, putting the phone down. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked. “You never nap.” 

“No…” I agreed. “But I don’t usually do CPR, either.” 

His eyes opened wide. He opened his mouth to speak, but something about me made him stop. “Have you had lunch, Jordan?” he asked after a moment. 

I shook my head. “But I’m not hungry.” 

Dave got out of his seat and moved to the fridge. “Eat a little something before you nap. Trust me, it’ll make it easier for you to sleep.” 

I agreed there was some truth in that, so I let him make me a sandwich. And Dave was right: my stomach full, I was able to push aside all the worry and just sleep. I didn’t wake up until the next morning. *** 

Over the next couple days, I got a lot of phone calls, but none of them was _the_ phone call. Teammates, classmates, people I’d never met who knew Jason or had even just heard what was going on called, desperate for updates. I never had anything to tell them. Everyone was speaking to me instead of Aaron. I figured this was for two reasons: first people knew that Aaron was Jason’s roommate, so they figured he’d be extra upset and it was a safer bet to speak with me. And then there was the fact that they were right. The few people who’d actually asked Aaron how Jason was doing had learned that he was not a calm person in times of stress when they’d had their own head handed to them. 

Dave and Jessica were about the only people who didn’t ask what was going on. The two of them set out to make my life easier, and they were abundantly successful. Dave fielded as many phone calls as he could and set up my email so that it autoreplied a status update to anyone who used the word ‘Jason’ in the subject line. 

Jessica, meanwhile, went into Mom mode. She bought groceries for Dave and me and made sure that we were eating. I’d come home from class to find a sandwich and an apple sitting in front of my computer. She even did my laundry one day. She never mentioned any chores she did for me. I only knew it was her making me food because I once came in to find two bowls of steaming hot soup, one on each of our desks. Never once did she try to get me to explore my feelings or deal with my problems, which was her normal style. 

As for me, I wasn’t sure I was dealing with things so well. I was going to class and taking notes, but I’d come home and look at those notes and have no idea what they meant. I ate, I slept, and I went to practice and games, but I felt like I was on autopilot. I’d expected to get mad, like Aaron, but I was only anxious for Jason's parents to call and say he was alright. 

But for four days, that call didn’t come. And I spent those whole four days a mental and emotional wreck. After the physical pain of performing CPR on one of my best friends faded away, I still found myself jittery and easily spooked. A door would slam down the hall while I was struggling through my homework, and I’d jump. My schoolwork made more sense in college, I’d realized, because I was actually paying attention in class, not planning my weekend or mentally perfecting my batting grip. Now that I wasn’t able to focus on the lectures and my T.A.s’ boring monotone voices, I found that doing my reading and my assignments was a lot harder. I figured things would get easier after I heard that Jason was going to make it. Until then, the lack of knowledge about his condition and my hastily made prayers and promises were on the forefront of my brain. 

Haley called me Thursday, two days after the accident. “Everything okay?” she started the conversation. “You didn’t log into IM last night, so I didn’t know when to call you.” 

I’d completely forgotten. Just getting through the game Wednesday night had taken most of my energy. Nearly every guy on the team—and some of the coaches—had stopped me for an update. Aaron, I noticed, was a no-show, though no one seemed to mind. “I’ve been really tired this week,” I told her wearily. 

Haley paused. “That’s not everything, is it?” she asked, a little suspicious but mostly sympathetic. “I know what you sound like when you’re tired. You’re upset about something. If there’s something bothering you, you can tell me about it. I promise I won’t tell anyone that you—a guy—have feelings.” 

I smiled weakly at her attempt at humor. “It’s been a very long week,” I repeated, but then the whole story poured out. “So he’s still in a coma in intensive care, and I don’t know if he’s going to live or die. I feel—” I stopped abruptly, because I realized that I didn’t know exactly how I felt. 

“Helpless?” she suggested. “Like you want to help, but you can’t?” 

“Yeah!” I enthused. “That’s exactly it. I want to go to the ICU and visit him, but they’re saying family only. I can’t concentrate on anything here until I know he’s okay, though.” 

“Oh,” she said, understanding clear in her tone. “I’ve been in a place like that before, although of course I’ve never had a friend’s life literally hanging in the balance. I can’t even imagine. Keep me updated, will you?” 

If one more person said that to me, I was going to scream. But in Haley’s case, it was less that she wanted me to keep her updated on Jason’s condition than that she wanted to be kept updated on _my_ condition. If things didn’t go well with Jason, she knew that wouldn’t bode well for me. “Tell me what’s going on with you,” I insisted. “Distract me.” 

“Well,” she began, “I got the part. Rehearsals for _Guys and Dolls_ start Monday.” 

I had to shake myself before I remembered what she was talking about. “That’s great, honey! Who else is in the cast?” 

Haley prattled on about the musical for twenty minutes or so, but less enthusiastically than normal. Afterward, I went to bed and pulled a pillow over my head. Dave was watching something loud on television, but out of respect he turned the volume down. It wouldn’t had mattered, though. I’d learned to like falling asleep to ambient background noises and wouldn’t have known what to do if it had been quiet. 

Saturday dawned bright and clear, and much like Tuesday, the phone rang early. Dave grumbled as he pulled his blankets over his head; phone calls at that time of morning were almost always for me. I blinked and looked at my alarm clock; I wasn’t scheduled to be anywhere until 10:30 and I’d planned to sleep as late as my body would let me. “Hello?” I drawled into the phone, scratching my shoulder with my spare hand. 

“May I speak to Jordan, please?” the voice on the other end of the line asked. 

“You’ve got him,” I replied. I couldn’t place the voice. It was female but not someone I spoke to regularly. The accent was very familiar, however. 

“This is Julie Snyder,” she continued. “Jason’s mother.” That explained the familiarity; she and Jason sounded a lot alike. I’d seen a family photo before and they also looked a lot alike. “My husband and I have been meaning to call you and thank you for what you did for our son.” 

Her voice was softer and more gentle than her son’s, but she also sounded unbelievably tired. Understandably. “I’ve been meaning to call you for a couple days,” she continued, “but I haven’t been able to muster the strength to give you the thanks you deserve. Jason’s dad and I would really like to take you and Aaron out for dinner before we go back to Arkansas.” 

I wondered when that would be and whether they’d be taking Jason with them. “I really didn’t do anything,” I stated. 

“Oh, but you did,” Mrs. Snyder retorted. “Without you, Jason wouldn’t have survived. Without you, he wouldn’t have opened his eyes this morning.” 

I’d been slumping in my desk chair, with my head on my shoulder, eyes have closed, but when she said that, I sat up straight. “He’s awake?” I asked, louder than I meant to be. 

I heard Dave muttering curse words into his pillow but I ignored him. “He’s awake,” she confirmed. “He isn’t back to his old self or anything, but he’s awake and his eyes appear to be tracking. Those are both very good signs, but we really won’t know how well he’ll recover any time soon. He’ll have a lot of tests, and then, hopefully, physical therapy.” 

This was all what the doctor had told me back on Tuesday. Jason was awake and his eyes were moving, which meant he wasn’t brain dead, but beyond that, nothing had changed. “Thanks for keeping me updated,” I said, trying not to sound too disappointed. All those prayers—not just mine, but a full prayer chain circling the school and beyond—and we weren’t any further along than when we started. 

I hung up a short time later after promising Mrs. Snyder that I would take her up on her offer for dinner soon. It was a little white lie, a promise I didn’t intend to keep. I could listen quietly over the phone and come across as polite, but I was afraid that if they met me in person, they’d realize I wasn’t a hero. I was a phony; I’d nearly cost Jason his life. 

Let them keep their illusions. 

*** 

Aaron was at the bus waiting when we all loaded up for the 90 minute drive, despite missing both the Wednesday and Friday games. “Did you hear about Jason?” he called across a crowd of people when he spotted me. I hadn’t had a chance to email an update—Dave assured me he’d get it out sometime that afternoon—and everyone was anxious to hear our news. “He’s awake. He’s alive.” I nodded my awareness as the crowd broke into cheering and chatter. Aaron sprinted across the lot, looking much better than he had since before this started. “I didn’t kill my best friend,” he reiterated, more quietly, directly to me. 

Jason wasn’t even close to out of the woods yet, and still Aaron sounded relieved. I really wished I felt the same way. There was still a fair chance that he’d end up never regaining the same level of abilities; I’d done some research when I should have been reading my western civilization text. I just nodded at Aaron again and he noticed my lack of enthusiasm. “What’s your problem, Amish?” he asked, sounding as irritated as he had when we’d been arguing on Tuesday. “Can’t you raise any enthusiasm for your friend?” he asked. 

I looked at him. “I’ll be enthusiastic when Jason’s up walking and talking,” I countered. 

Aaron turned deathly serious for a moment. “Do you think he’s really going to be okay?” he asked quietly as the guys began filing onto the bus. “Will he walk and talk again? Will he be able to come back to school with us?” 

I looked up to the heavens as he asked that; gray storm clouds were forming on the horizons. Those were the questions. 

*** 

We lost that game, same as we had the night before. As we were heading home on the bus that evening, one of the coaches told me that I could skip Sunday’s doubleheader. “We’ve got the bases covered and you’ve had a rough week. Maybe you need some time to catch up on homework or something.” 

Normally I would have argued and insisted upon sitting on the bench so I looked like a team player, but I was pretty sure this was non-negotiable with the coaches, and they were right, anyway. I could try to sleep in again and then catch up on my reading and assignments. 

It didn’t work out that way. I was up at four-thirty out of habit, and even though I was awake, I wasn’t alert enough to do any reading. I spent the early morning hours looking out the window, watching the sun rise. After that I started looking for any activity to do that didn’t require any thought. I took an extra-long shower and then spent well over an hour looking at a website full of urban legends, trying to see how many I was already familiar with. By that time, Dave was up and moving. “Hey,” he said, seeing me lounging in sweatpants and a holey t-shirt. “Going to church like that? I know God doesn’t expect tails and a top hat, but I think He’d appreciate a little more effort than this.” 

“I’m not going to church today,” I replied curtly. 

“Really?” Dave replied. He kindly ignored my tone. “I mean, that’s your choice, but you _always_ go to church unless you have a morning game. I’m just a little surprised that you’re going to skip.” 

“What’s the point?” 

Dave stopped in his tracks. “What’s the point? Of going to church?” I had my back to him, looking at my email, although I was not actually reading it. “The point is, it’s a beautiful day, Jason woke up from his coma, and I thought you’d want to go thank God for that.” I shrugged and even though I wasn’t looking at him, I could feel the change in his expression. “Or not. Look, my ride is waiting downstairs, but when I get back, I’ve got no plans. If you want to do something, or just talk, I’m free all day.” 

I finally looked up from my computer. Dave’s eyebrows were knitted together and he looked like he wanted to say more, but knew that pushing me would likely make me upset. “Sounds cool,” I said unenthusiastically. 

Dave sighed. “See ya.” 

The phone rang just after Dave left and I finally picked it up on the sixth ring. “Jordan?” Jessica said. “We’re down here waiting for you,” she continued. 

Jessica and her roommate, Colette, were my ride to church every week. I’d forgotten to let them know I wasn’t planning on going. “Sorry,” I murmured, not completely unapologetic. “I’ll have to catch you guys next week.” 

Jessica didn’t sound like her motherly self when she spoke next. “Okay, Jordan,” she said crisply. “Wanna have lunch with us later instead? Or we could go for a drive for the afternoon. Let me know, okay?” 

She didn’t let me answer before she hung up the phone. Either she was in a hurry, like Dave, or she was annoyed with me. She couldn’t be too terribly irritated or she wouldn’t keep trying to get me to do stuff, though. 

I spent the next fifteen minutes organizing my emails, deleting things I didn’t need and making folders for what I wanted to keep. After that, I logged into IM, looking disinterestedly through who was online. It was just something to do to pass time; I didn’t actually want to talk to anyone. But a message box popped up almost immediately. “How’s it going?” Byron wrote. 

I was surprised to see him. He’d been spending a lot less time online this semester. When Adam had asked him about it, he’d simply said, ‘I’ve been really busy.’ “it’s rough,” I admitted on IM. Byron replied with a frowny face and I had a revelation. He was usually non-judgmental, and he gave advice in a way that didn’t make you feel stupid for asking in the first place. “are you at home right now?” I asked. 

“Yup.” 

“good, i’m calling you.” 

He picked the call up on the first ring. “What’s wrong, Jordan?” 

I didn’t know where to begin. I was so jumbled up inside. “What do you think about God?” I finally asked. 

His surprise was abundantly clear, even with two states and a phone line in between us. “What?” 

“Do you believe in God? Do you think he controls everything, and that he’s a benevolent power, like they say at church?” 

Byron sighed. “I’m taking a whole class in religion right now,” he said, and at first I didn’t see how that was an answer. But this is Byron I’m talking about. He learns things from books the way that most people do from life experience. “And that hasn’t cleared anything up for me, at all. I’ve always wondered about God. I can’t decide how I feel about a higher power. I’d like to believe something’s out there watching over us, but I don’t like the idea that my whole life is preordained and I’m just a helpless puppet with no control over any aspect of my identity.” 

I understood that point of view. “I used to believe everything they told us in church,” I told him. “There was a reason for everything in my life, and I just need to trust that God will do the right thing.” Byron made a gentle ‘hmm’ sound. “But the problem with that is that I’m not so sure that God’s actually up there or that he’s listening.” 

I heard Byron shuffling around on his end. “What’s making you feel that way? What’s the catalyst, I mean. You don’t just suddenly start questioning God’s existence for no reason.” 

“I’ve been praying for something really important,” I admitted, “and I’ve been waiting in limbo ever since, with no sign that He’s listening.” I told him the story, in brief, about Jason. I was so sick of telling it that I pared it down to the important details. “So he’s alive, and he’s going to make it, but there’s no telling what kind of brain damage he has. I asked God to let him be okay, and this is what happened.” 

“You know,” Byron said thoughtfully, “I’ve always seen praying as less a petition to God to change things and more of a ‘letter to the editor.’ Do you think that writing a letter to your local newspaper about potholes on your street makes them go away? Sometimes, you just have to air your grievances and hope it makes you feel better. That’s how I’ve always prayed.” 

“What’s the point then?” I asked, looking up at the ceiling as I spoke into the phone. “Why do we bother?” 

“You know what I think, Jordan?” Byron said after a moment. I just grunted; if I knew what he thought, I wouldn’t have to ask for his opinion. “I think you’re not really questioning your beliefs. I think you’re just angry with God. I’ve spent a lot of time there myself. You’re wondering why he would do this to you; why he let this happen.” 

“He didn’t do this to _me_ ,” I replied testily. “He did this to Jason, who definitely didn’t deserve it.” 

Byron’s end of the phone line was absolutely silent. Usually when I spoke with him, he was multitasking—typing or eating or whatever. But today he was just listening. “That’s the problem with the universe,” he finally answered. “Nothing ever just affects one person. We’re all interlinked, so what happens to one person happens to everyone who cares about them.” 

That was true. “So why did God let this happen?” I finally mused. I wasn’t actually asking Byron, but if he had any wisdom, now was a good time for him to let it be heard. 

“You know how they say that God makes us in his image?” he replied. “I think that’s the one thing that I heard in church that’s absolutely 100 percent correct. Humans as a race are flawed, and each and every person has his own defects. So if we’re made in God’s image, then He must be flawed too.” 

I was stunned by this interpretation. Our church had always said that God was almighty and all powerful, and to me that meant that he had to be perfect. How could anyone even come to any other conclusion? How could we hand over power over our lives to a flawed deity? I was quiet for so long that Byron, maybe fearing he’d lost me, rushed to explain himself. “Thinking of an imperfect God makes it easier to get mad at Him when I need to…and to forgive Him, too.” 

“What made _you_ mad at Him?” 

Byron seemed surprised by the question. “Being gay,” he admitted candidly. “I mean, I’m fine with it now, but imagine how I felt when everyone at the lunch table freshman year of high school was either telling stories about feeling girls up or listening rapturously. I had two thoughts in my head: ‘Eww, gross, I hate these stories’ and ‘Why can’t I like these stories like everyone else?’” 

I digested that for a moment. “If you could choose,” I asked slowly, “Would you be gay?” 

“Back then, absolutely not. High school is all about fitting in; I wanted to be just like everyone else. I was already different because I was quiet and all that. But I got quieter during that period, when it became so hard to stuff it all down.” He sighed and I heard him start typing something in the background. “Now? I have to be honest and say I’m not sure. Don’t get me wrong; I love Jeff and wouldn’t trade our relationship for anything. But if I were single and tomorrow I fell in love with a girl, I don’t think that would make me unhappy, if you know what I mean.” 

He changed the topic. “Look, Jordan, have you been to see Jason since he went to the hospital?” 

I shook my head before I realized he couldn’t see it. “No, because at first they wouldn’t let me. And now I’m so far behind in a couple of my classes…” 

“I think you need to go,” Byron asserted. “Maybe you’ll feel better about everything and you’ll be able to concentrate better on your homework.” 

“Maybe,” I agreed. 

Byron said a few more encouraging words and then the two of us hung up. I changed into a pair of jeans and a nice-ish shirt, like I would have worn if I had gone to church and then sat back in my chair. I knew I still couldn’t concentrate on my textbooks, so instead I searched the internet for websites about ancient Rome, our current topic in western civ, and spent the next hour before my friends would get home taking a virtual tour of Roman life. 

Dave usually gets home from church after I do, so when he arrived while I was sending Mom an email updating her on what was going on, I leaped up from the computer and grabbed the phone. “What are you doing?” Dave asked cautiously. 

I didn’t answer him, just dialed a number from memory. “Hey, Dave.” Jessica had picked the phone up on the first ring. “Ready for lunch?” 

I ignored the fact that she’d assumed I was my roommate. “Were you serious when you said we could take a drive?” I asked. 

Jessica took a second to catch up and figure out who was speaking. I didn’t call her too terribly often. “Of course,” she said, still not sure what I was doing. “Are we talking just you and me, or…?” 

“Dave, too, if he’s interested.” Dave was changing shirts and looked up at me questioningly. 

“Well, great! Lunch first, or shall we eat on the way?” 

We ran through the drive-thru at a McDonald’s just off campus. Jessica tossed a chicken nugget in her mouth while we were stopped at the stop sign waiting to turn onto the street. “Which way are we headed?” she asked. 

“To the hospital,” I admitted. 

Dave was in the backseat, doing what I usually do when Jessica’s driving: holding on for dear life. She’s a great person overall but she drives for shit. I swear, she’s the reason all those female-driver stereotypes exist. He hadn’t touched his Big Mac and I knew why: he was afraid he’d throw it back up. “Good choice,” he commented, his eyes squinched shut as Jessica swerved from one lane to the other without warning. 

The front seat was a little better and I was able to actually eat French fries while we were moving. “Sure you guys don’t mind waiting while I visit Jason?” I asked. It suddenly seemed selfish to ask the two of them to come along and sit in the waiting room while I did what I needed to do. 

“Of course not,” Jessica answered quickly, her mouth full of McNugget. She swerved back into the other lane without using her turn signal. “We’ll find ways to pass the time,” she added idly, with a wink to Dave. It’s the type of move he normally loves, but he missed it this time. I looked at him over my shoulder and saw his eyes were still closed and he was mouthing something silently. I watched for a moment before I realized it was the Twenty-third psalm: _The Lord is my shepherd…_ For the first time in nearly a week, I actually smiled. 

*** 

There’s something vaguely terrifying about hospitals. Many people only have negative memories about them, and I was definitely one of them. In addition to my experience on Tuesday, I’d visited the ER several times for various injuries, both mine and Adam’s. (Byron was the only Pike boy to make it to adulthood without breaking something.) But this beat all of that. I’d never been in the ICU before, but even the waiting area seemed more serious than the waiting room for the ER. It was more sterile, colder and tenser. I hadn’t told anyone I was coming, and I wasn’t sure I’d even be allowed to see Jason. 

Dave and Jessica settled into chairs to finish their food. The chairs here were just as hard and uncomfortable as the one I’d spent hours in in the ER. I went to the desk and asked about Jason. The lady behind the counter—was she a nurse or a receptionist? I wasn’t sure—pointed out his room. There was a huge glass window (I guess privacy isn’t important in the ICU) and I could see his parents huddled around his bed. “Let me see if this is a good time,” the woman said. She made a quick, quiet phone call as I craned my neck to try to see Jason through the window. “Go on in.” 

I stopped in the door way of Jason’s room, thinking I might knock to alert everyone I was there. But I caught a glimpse of him and I froze, my fist inches from the door frame. Jason was hooked up to myriad tubes and wires and monitors, but his eyes were open and he watched intently as his father, a large man, tall and muscular and good looking like his son, read with a surprisingly soft and gentle voice. The Snyders noticed me before I could thaw myself enough to finish the knock. “Hi,” I said awkwardly, feeling like my mouth were full of sandpaper. 

Mrs. Snyder stood up. “You must be Jordan,” she said warmly. How did she know? “Come on in. Jason, Jordan’s here to see you.” 

I managed to get my feet moving again and inched closer to the bed. Jason’s eyes met mine as I approached his feet. This was, despite how dire the machines made everything look, a definite improvement over the last time I’d seen his eyes. Of course, he’d technically been dead at that time. 

I stared at Jason for a while. Even though he was looking at me, I couldn’t get whether he was following what was going on. Maybe he was only looking at me because I’d been moving, same as babies do. Mrs. Snyder sort of confirmed that for me. “We aren’t sure how much his cognitive skills were affected by the injury,” she whispered to me. “So the doctors want us to keep talking to him like he understands.” 

I nodded and both parents backed away, obviously thinking that was my cue to start talking. “Hi, Jason,” I said self-consciously, but then I paused briefly. What do you say to a friend who can’t talk back? In front of his parents, nonetheless. “Everyone on the team’s been so worried about you. We’ve lost every game since you’ve been in here.” I found myself inching closer to Jason’s head, picking up steam. “You never really know how many people care about you until something like this happens. I swear, Dave and I have half the school on a list, emailing them updates. Dave and Jessica are both here with me, and they send their love. So does everyone else.” 

Jason closed his eyes about then and I _swear_ he smiled as he did. When his eyes stayed closed, his father sat back down beside him. I noticed a photo near Jason’s head; it featured Aaron, Jason and me standing in front of the ice machine in a motel in Georgia. On the frame Jason had written ‘Take a chill pill,’ an inside joke from that road trip. Seeing photo-Jason looking robust and healthy right next to him hooked up to five million tubes, sleeping with sunken eyes, was beyond disturbing. I found myself backing away from him and I didn’t even realize it until I tripped over something. “He’ll be out for a while,” Mr. Snyder said, stroking the hair out of Jason’s eyes. “Would you go down to the cafeteria with my wife? She hasn’t eaten today because she hates to eat alone, and one of us likes to stay here with Jason at all times.” 

How do you say no to that? I thought about my cheeseburger getting cold in Jessica’s McDonald’s sack before I consented. Hospital food or not, lunch in the cafeteria had to be better than an old, soggy fast-food burger. 

We amassed a small tray of food and Mrs. Snyder insisted upon paying. “You’re the first one of Jason’s friends to come visit him,” she told me as we took seats in the corner. “Plus, you saved his life. The least I can do is buy you some lukewarm, bland cafeteria food.” 

I was instantly uncomfortable as I played with the bowl of chili in front of me. “For all the good it did,” I murmured. 

“What’s that?” Mrs. Snyder was a small woman with a commanding presence; I wondered briefly if that was how Haley would be someday. I looked at her, my eyebrows knitted, and she could tell that I was unhappy. It must have been written on my face. “You must know,” she continued, “how grateful we are for you staying with Jason and doing CPR on him. You’ve given us the best gift we’ve ever received.” 

I shoved the chili aside, suddenly not hungry. “But…Aaron and I were arguing,” I admitted. “If it weren’t for us, Jason….” I sighed. “This would never have happened.” 

Mrs. Snyder shrugged. “Stuff happens. We can spend all our time looking back at what we should have done differently in life, but it gets us nowhere. You can’t move forward when you’re looking backward.” 

That sounded like one of the aphorisms on Haley’s scribble wall. I nodded slowly, acknowledging the point. “I just don’t get why this had to happen at all,” I mumbled, but I knew she heard me. 

“Ours is not to wonder why,” Mrs. Snyder quoted, sipping her coffee. “I think the key is to always look for the positive, the little ways that life is good, when we get handed a curve ball. Jason _is_ alive. Yes, he could be brain damaged from lack of oxygen, but he might not be. He might go back to the way he was with time and therapy. Or he might be like an overgrown toddler for the rest of his life.” She tasted the turkey with gravy on her plate; for some reason, it’s always Thanksgiving in hospital cafeterias. “If it comes to it, I’ll take wiping his tush for the rest of his life over visiting his grave. You’re the reason for that to even be an option, Jordan, and I have to thank you for that.” 

Of course she was right. I pulled the chili back toward me, figuring I might be able to eat now. “How long will he be in the hospital?” I asked. 

“We’re not entirely sure,” she answered. “But we’re prepared for when that happens. We’ve already lined up a place for him in a rehab facility back in Little Rock. No matter how well he recovers, he’ll be there for a while.” She smiled weakly. “I’ll probably take that email list that you put together and use it to keep everyone updated while he’s recuperating, but I want you and Aaron to stay in closer touch than that. Feel free to call or even visit any time.” 

I thought about what she had said earlier about being the first one of Jason’s friends to visit. “Have you spoken with Aaron at all?” 

She sighed. “He’s avoiding coming here,” she said plainly. “I asked him when we picked up some of Jason’s things and he made up a bunch of obvious excuses. I don’t know if he’s feeling guilty or if he just can’t stand to see Jason this way. I do hope he’ll come around before we have to move Jason back to Arkansas, but that’s his choice. Maybe you’ll be able to convince him to come with you next time you visit.” 

“Maybe,” I agreed. Aaron was dealing with his own anger at himself and I had a feeling it was going to take him a long time to even acknowledge what was right there for everyone to see. 

When we got back to the ICU, Jason was awake again. “He sleeps in spurts,” Mrs. Snyder explained from the other side of the giant window. “Like a baby,” she added, and despite all her positive words, she looked like she was going to burst into tears. As much as an emotional woman I barely knew made me highly uncomfortable, that moment also gave me a small gift: everyone, even the strongest among us, breaks down sometimes, and that’s not a sin or a crime. 

We walked into the hospital room and Mr. Snyder stood up. “Brian,” his wife said, “Come with me to get some coffee and let’s give the boys a couple minutes alone.” 

I waited until they were out of sight and sat down in the recently vacated chair. “Hey, Snyder,” I said. Jason’s eyes followed me as I sat and I started to see the hope his mother clung to. These were not the eyes of someone who was brain dead; it felt more like he was following everything and wished he could jump out of that bed and go play in the games I was skipping to be here with him. “There are a few things I wanted to say without your mom watching over you. Aaron made sure to hide your porn and condoms and stuff before your parents came to your room, and he assures me that he’ll take full responsibility for anything that does remain. He’ll say it’s his.” Aaron had, indeed, made that comment during the bus ride back from our game yesterday. 

I fell quiet for a moment and Jason’s expression remained unchanged, his eyes still following my every move. “I’m really sorry this happened to you,” I finally said. “I’m sorry for my part in it. I’ve been pretty mad at God for the last week or so for letting this occur. But I think it’s going to make me appreciate things in a new way.” I licked my lips, which were suddenly dry. “I’m going to enjoy every free moment I have. I’m going to study more and get better grades. And I’m definitely going to make sure I tell everyone I love just how much I appreciate them.” 

I swear Jason smiled again. I talked to him for a few more minutes before he fell asleep again, and then I waited for his parents to come back before I left. Dave and Jessica were getting restless in the waiting room when I returned. “Sorry, Jordan,” Dave said before I even had a chance to speak. “I ate your cheeseburger because I knew you wouldn’t want if it was cold and greasy. I’ll buy you another one.” 

I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Jessica stood up from her own chair. “Everything okay?” she asked cautiously. 

I nodded and stood between them, putting one arm around each one of them. Dave is a few inches taller than I am, while Jessica’s a few inches shorter. The three of us looked like a slope—upward or downward, depending on how you wanted to look at us. “Thanks for coming with me today,” I said, looking up at Dave and then down at Jessica. “You guys know how much you mean to me?” 

“Of course we do, silly,” Jessica said as she gave me a hug in return. “Why do you think we’d do just about anything for you?” 

The three of us left the building and I wish I could say that the weather outside matched my mood like it does in the movies, but we all know reality doesn’t work that way. The sky was gray and the humidity was extremely high; it couldn’t have been more unpleasant outside if it were actually raining. But it didn’t damper my newfound enthusiasm for things. Jason was going to be alright. I didn’t have any proof, but I just _knew_. I had the faith to keep going and to get back to living my life. 

I stopped outside of Jessica’s car and looked up to the dismal sky. I gave a quick prayer of thanks for good friends before I got into the backseat and held on for dear life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for waiting so patiently for the chapters of my works. If it's not one health problem here, it's another! Hopefully the rest of the series will be faster in coming.


End file.
